


Jam Jars: The Book

by jamjarsthebook



Series: Jam Jars: The Book [1]
Category: jam jars - Fandom, jam jars the book
Genre: Action, Adventure, Connor Gowon, Drug Abuse, Drugs, F/F, FemalexFemale, FxF, GAY GAY GAY, Gay, Girl/Girl, Its all very gay, Jill Ghojjel, John Chavez, LGBT, Lesbian, Mary Chavez, Mystery, Olivech Gortald, Original Story - Freeform, Racism, Romance, Tsuru Takano, drug issues, f/f - Freeform, girlxgirl, jam jars, jam jars the book - Freeform, lesbian book, lesbians being lesbians, thirller, very gay, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-12-09 22:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 130,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11678364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamjarsthebook/pseuds/jamjarsthebook
Summary: Bochardess isn’t a kind city. Vera isn’t a well functioning girl. And yet she’s found herself the bodyguard of Emma, a naive ‘child’ who she’ll have to spend every waking moment protecting. Drop fellow bodyguard Tsuru, a meme connoisseur and pun enthusiasts into the mix, and an organisation who wants Emma dead as the cherry on top, and you’ve got yourself a ticking Vera time bomb waiting to blow.It doesn’t help that Vera suspects there’s a lot more going on than being said.Mysteries stack up around Vera, Emma and Tsuru as they fight for the truth, and their lives.





	1. Prologue

** Prologue **

Weddings are meant to be the first day of your new life, but as Antonio looked at Mary, he knew this was not the case. This wasn’t his wedding, and this wasn’t his day. Mr and Mrs Chavez were eating cake and laughing with each other, a picture of domestic bliss. Antonio wasn’t fooled, he’d seen the groom talk to the bride earlier that day.

“I thought I ordered blue flowers?” Mary had been confused, her dainty hand caressing the white petals of an orchid. 

“I changed it. White fits a wedding far better.” Mr Chavez explained. Mary seemed unconvinced,

“And you didn’t tell me?” The groom had smiled knowingly, green eyes patronisingly pitiful. 

“Oh, honey, I saved you from embarrassment, you were being your usual stupid self. Blue would have been awful – you’re welcome.” He dismissed her concern. Mary had shrugged it off and smiled, 

“I suppose, it's nice how you look out for me.”

“Of course.” The groom closed the distance between them and planted a kiss on her forehead, “Anything for you. Just trust me a little more, okay?” Mary was silent. “Okay?” The groom repeated, more forceful, his voice threatening. It became painfully obvious how much stronger and taller than Mary Mr Chavez was. Mary nodded and looked up at him, her tanned skin soft in the morning light. 

“Okay.” 

Antonio snatched an olive from the buffet and chewed on it in his frustration, eyeing the groom up and down with a mixture of disappointment and jealousy. Maybe he’d read the situation wrong, maybe it was his temper that had made him hear manipulative words where there was only love. No matter, he still felt that cold rock of anger in the pit of his stomach. He'd decided a long time ago that if manipulation was what it took to come out on top, he'd master the art himself. In the end, however, Mr Chavez had been better at the art than Antonio. As such, Antonio now resolved to beat Mr Chavez, by any means possible. 

Antonio cast his eyes around the wedding tent. It was spacious and white, with a small disco ball hanging from the ceiling. Rows and rows of low tables with assortments of meat, cheese and desserts lined one end of the tent. The other was left bare for the guests to dance. If it could be called dancing. Woven lanterns of pink, blue and green hung above his head, glowing annoyingly. 

“Dance with me!” Chirped one of the bridesmaid's, dressed in blue with brown, shoulder length hair. Her cheeks were flushed red from wine, her frame dancing with the light from the woven lanterns. Antonio dragged his hazel eyes up and down her, his nose crinkled in distaste. The bridesmaid pouted, “Men always pull at weddings,” she protested, wrapping her arm around his. He stiffened, his gaze not dropping from hers. She was pretty, it would certainly be normal for him to seduce a women. It was almost expected at weddings. He glanced in the direction of the happy couple, then set on his best smile, flashing perfectly straight teeth, and turned back to the woman. 

“I suppose men do, the question, therefore, isn’t _when_ they will pull, but _whom_.” The women tilted her head and fluttered her eyes far too quickly, letting out a small laugh. Antonio took in a deep breath, “Shall we?” He gestured to the dance floor. They made their way to the open space and began swaying awkwardly. “So, how is it you know Mary?” He asked as they began to dance, the music slow and dull.

“We went to university together.” She murmured, trying her best to keep in time with the song, and doing an acceptable job. Antonio gave a nod, getting into the groove, leading her around with precision and confidence. He gave her a twirl and swept her back into his arms. She gave a small yelp of surprise and then a giggle of excitement. 

“Are you still well acquainted?” Antonio pushed. She shrugged, a little perplexed now,

“I would hope so, I am her bridesmaid…” She paused, then, “By the way, my name’s-”

“Lovely, I’m sure.” Antonio cut across. “Do you know what Mr and Mrs Chavez plan to do after this?” The bridesmaid was further confused but complied with his questioning none-the less. 

“They’re going on their honey moon. Didn’t you know?”

“Of course I did, but where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is Emma going with them?”

“No, Janichen is babysitting her until-”

“What time are they leaving tomorrow?”

“I don’t… I-”

“Are clearly of no use.” Antonio shoved her away from him and stalked off the dance floor, hands in his suit’s pockets. The bridesmaid stared after him dumbfounded. 

Antonio waited out the rest of the evening in a darkened corner, spitefully eyeing the guests as they mindlessly milled around the reception, greeting and gossiping with each other. He gave appropriate comments and responses where prompted by those brave enough to interact with him. Merry spirits were lofted by the sweet taste of alcohol, and the rowdy crowd had only grown more insufferable. Antonio knew that now was not the time to act. _Patience_. He told himself, coddling the cold, dark anger inside of him, _Patience_. 

And so, later that night, once the wine glasses lay empty and the buffet bare, once even the rowdiest of the crowd had retreated to their beds, Antonio found himself walking in the dark. His gloved hands clenched, resolving to act at last. Before the Chavez’s left in the morning. 

The sky warmed with the slightest hint of morning’s yellow light, the birds chattering amongst the leaves. Antonio himself was exhausted after a night of small talk and pointless socialising. Business was one thing, it held purpose, climbing the ladder and making connections, but the filth of humans gathered at the wedding had been utterly useless, and might as well have been a pile of corpses. He approached from the front, the small house’s appearance assured him of the lack of security. Antonio took the briefest of moments to try the front door, just in case. Naturally, it was locked, so he circled around the back, hopping the small, peeling garden fence. He snuck in the back door, aware of the key hidden under a false rock. He would have crept up the stairs, but Mary was awake and in the kitchen. A steaming mug was clasped in her shaking hands and she was facing out the window, into the garden. Or rather, up into the sky, gazing intently into the distance. It didn’t take much stealth for Antonio to close the distance. That rock of anger in his stomach was bubbling with heat, turning to lava. His breath caught as his temper began to overtake him. The false rock outside was still in place as if no one had touched it. But the very real, very solid, rock next to it was gone, held tightly in Antonio’s right, gloved hand.

Weddings are meant to be the first day of your new life, but for Mary, it was her last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story please leave a kudos and/or comment to let me know!


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city of Bochardess has never been Kind to Vera, but by some stroke of luck she has finally managed to get herself a friend in high places, and a job.
> 
> Vera has been assigned as Emma's bodyguard. Vera has never been a bodyguard before. She doesn't know what she's protecting Emma from, she doesn't know who Emma is and she doesn't know why she's so eager to help her. All she knows is the job pays well, and she doesn't have another option.
> 
> Then Emma is attacked. Vera, fellow bodyguard Tsuru and Emma embark on a search to figure out what is going on, and it soon becomes clear that they are facing forces far greater than they could have imagined.
> 
> Toeing the line between giving up and letting her rage loose, Vera finds her situation ever more perilous as the days go by.
> 
> Can Vera, Tsuru and Emma figure out the mysteries of Bochardess before everything is lost?

** Chapter 1 **

Bochardess was a young, cruel and divided city. The rich grew ever richer, and the poor endured only more poverty. Somewhere in the more deviant corners of the city, tucked away between pleasure houses and gambling dens, grey apartment blocks and sparse stores, was a warehouse. It’s rusted, corrugated roof was tattered with small holes and its doors barely clung to their hinges. It was a favourite spot amongst the desperate souls of Bochardess. One such soul was Vera Ivanova. Her brown eyes slid from left to right, taking the cold, metallic walls of the abandoned warehouse in. Bodies of tired, drugged up men and women were strewn across the floor. Vera herself was crumpled on the ground by an empty metal shelf, her tall frame curled in the foetal position. Her hands twitched and her eyelids lazily opened and closed, as if of their own volition. 

Earlier that day, the morning had started as it always had. Vera had awoken, in her apartment, a few moments before her alarm had screeched into action in the small grey room. She’d assured herself, as she did every morning, that sleep was still under her control. Expression empty, she’d pulled her black turtleneck, trousers and socks out of the washing machine. Vera refused to wear anything less plain than her monotone set as, in her opinion, the plainer things in life were always the most beautiful. She was not a fan of the _Bochardian flourish,_ a cultural phenomenon where Bochardian traditions, foods and norms seldom found any subtlety or restraint in appearance, flavour or morals. 

She had ironed her clothes, dressed, and pulled her black beanie over her short blonde hair. Her journey through Bochardess to the warehouse had been uneventful. The city wasn’t known for its scenic views, culture or heritage. Whilst there was the occasional honest tourist attraction the main draw of the city was pleasure of a kind hard to obtain elsewhere. The kind of pleasure that benefitted only the guests of the city at the expense of the local populous. Any impressive buildings that there may have been were plagued by graffiti, due to the local religion, _Uurism,_ spreading their icon of a white half sun everywhere. The endless sprawls of grey apartment blocks and convenience stores were well suited to Vera, though the smell was troublesome. The pollution of the dense city was nothing to be sniffed at, quite literally. Vera never showed any notable sign of distaste for the air of Bochardess, but her throat felt frequently clogged. Now, however, lying on the warehouse floor, neither her nose or throat felt any constraints. Her senses were alive. Vera’s eyes told her that she could see through their skin and into the veins and organ of those around her, and her ears buzzed with the noise of insects on a bush two buildings over. This sensory overload was familiar to Vera, it was why she came here. Her left hand twitched once more and a syringe fell out of it and rolled onto the cold floor, empty. 

Vera knew what she was hearing and seeing was not real, but the feeling of her heart pumping and her blood boiling was more than enough to put her mind to silence, and that was all she really craved. Just as her senses were beginning to dull, the sharp noise of someone walking toward her broke into her trance. Her brown eyes caught sight of shiny, black shoes, polished to perfection and somehow remaining clean in the dank place. No one she knew came to a place like this in shoes like those. Except for one man. 

“Gortald…” She muttered, her eyes shutting and her brow furrowing, the floor felt as though it was swaying beneath her as she lay still. Vera had to focus on speaking to produce any understandable words, “What do you want?”

“You’ve made quite something of yourself, haven’t you, Brown Eyes?” A crisp, well-articulated voice wafted into her ears. “You’re very keen on the ‘sunshine’ I see.” Gortald added, gesturing at the syringe on the floor. 

“Whatever…” She mumbled, struggling to her hands and knees. It took her a moment to realise how Gortald had referred to her, “Don’t call me Brown Eyes.” She growled. She had no clue how Gortald had learnt her alternate name, but she didn’t care, so long as he didn’t use it. It roused unwelcome memories. Gortald, all perfect posture and black tie dress, knelt down and picked up the syringe, examining it in his hand. He ignored Vera’s comment. Vera reached out to the metal shelf and used it to clamber into a standing position. Her eyes narrowed then widened, her vision blurry, as she faltered on her feet. Gortald straightened, pocketing the syringe, and held out his hand to her. 

“Need assistance?”

“What do you want?” Vera repeated, teeth gritted, ignoring the hand held out in front of her.

“I thought you’d be more happy to see me.” Gortald scoffed, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets. 

“I can’t believe you wore a waist coat to a place like this…” Vera mumbled, her brain still not connecting the conversation perfectly. She paused, then, “I would be happy to see you if I wasn’t high right now.”

“Please, I waited until the worst had passed. You’ll be your normal self in…” He glanced at his expensive watch, “Ten minutes. Give or take, and that’s plenty of time.” Vera looked at Gortald as she began stumbling towards the warehouse’s exit, Gortald leisurely following at her side. It took Vera a moment to process his words and form a response.

“Time for what?”

“I’ve found a job for you, as I said I would.” Gortald increased his pace, leading the way, stepping around a boy staring wide eyed at the ceiling. Vera’s stomach turned in shame, _was that how I looked?_ She didn’t need to ask. She knew it was. She’d seen how drugs affected people too many times to kid herself into thinking she was any different. “It’s time to meet your new employer.”  
“What kind of job?” Vera cut in. they’d reached the entrance and Vera took a moment to lean against the doorframe. Her balance was slowly edging back to normal, and her brain’s cogs were turning at an ever increasing pace, but the sluggishness in her muscles was taking its time to fade. 

“You’re a tall, well-muscled female with some experience in combat, and that’s about the sum of your attributes. I had very limited options.” He reminded her as he stepped out onto the snow covered pavement outside. Vera gave him an unappreciative look,

“That doesn’t answer my question, Mr Exposition.” She grumbled, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight as she stepped out to join him, her feet slipping on the fresh snow. The sunshine reflected off windows, increasing the pounding in her head. The gentle fall of glinting snowflakes didn’t help, either. Gortald took in a breath of the cold winter air, stepping towards the road, and looked around as Vera’s legs staggered in her attempts to follow him.

“You’re to be a bodyguard.” He explained, approaching a black car parked on the pavement. It was as shiny as his shoes and looked twice as eccentric. _Can cars look eccentric?_ Vera wondered, then, on a second glance, _This one can._ Vera gave Gortald a look from narrowed eyes. The man seemed more like a boy, tall and lithe with young features. It felt odd for such a ‘boy’ to give her orders. He shrugged while reaching to open the car door, “It’s better than nought.” He gestured to the inside of the car, leather seats smelling of detergent. It didn’t fill Vera with much confidence, but at least she could trust the interior was clean. She ducked her head down and lowered herself clumsily into the seat, she often bumped her skull when coming down from a high, and had learnt to be cautious with her head. Her long legs and arms awkwardly fitting into the vehicle. Gortald shut the door and walked around to the other side, pausing by the driver's seat to tell the chauffeur where they were going. Vera just managed to catch the word ‘cottage’ and her stomach sank, if she had to spend the next year or so of her life sitting in a tiny little hut with some strange towns people she was going to need a lot more ‘sunshine’ to get her through it. Gortald made himself comfortable on the seat next to her and Vera shuffled towards the window, trying to avoid physical contact and to gain a few more inches on which to spread her tall frame.

“How did I end up here…” She mumbled to herself, looking out the tinted glass as the car pulled away from the warehouse. Her mind still plagued by numbness, a thought had turned to an audible sentence.

“I believe you took the bus.” Gortald responded smartly. Vera shot him a glare and returned to watching the streets pass by. 

Brown Eyes estimated an hour from the warehouse to where the car stopped. The houses had gradually turned from poor and rusted, to grand and vast as they’d entered the west side of Bochardess, known for its wealth and business. Though West Bochardess was immense in size, it was only a small subsection of the city, and soon they’d found themselves turning into a wood leading away from the crowded streets. They had been driving for a few minutes before the trees began to thin. As they did, more of the snow broke through the canopy and settled on the road. 

“A lot of the trees in the centre of the forest were burnt down fifteen years back.” Gortald’s voice cut through Vera’s thoughts. She had looked at Gortald in mild interest, then out the window at the thick foliage. 

“You wouldn’t know it.” She murmured. The forest had recovered from the horror of the flames. Only the scars of the blaze remained. Eventually, the car had stopped. After a long crawl of seemingly endless forest, the left side of the road had a turn off blocked by a large black gate. Vera turned in her seat to get a look at where she’d be staying. Gortald gave her a quizzical glance,

“I know you pack light, but you haven’t even asked about gathering any of your belongings from your apartment.” He pointed out. Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath,

“Please, I know you packed all the essentials for me already.” She responded. Gortald gave a small laugh, 

“Yes, I suppose I did.” He admitted, “There is a briefing in there, too. Do try to give it a read.” Vera had nodded with no intention of skimming more than the essential information.

“Do I have a small room?” Vera questioned as the gate slowly scraped open, catching sight of a decently sized cottage. Large, even.

“Tiny.”

“Plain white sheets?” Vera pushed.

“The plainest.” Gortald confirmed. Vera couldn’t help a small smile and an approving nod of her head,

“Good.” The car pulled onto the extravagantly long, gravelled driveway. The tires crunched over the small stones and snow as it made its way towards the cottage. Vera opened her window and leant to peer up at the building, its white walls at least three stories high, with its brown thatched roof neatly sat on top. The picturesque shape of the structure reminded Brown eyes of a ginger bread house, albeit white and brown with black beams. She couldn’t help the hitch in her breath at its beauty. _Maybe this won’t be so bad._ She thought optimistically, then shot the thought down, _That’s never been true before._ The car slowed to a halt and Gortald stepped out. He walked around to open her door, but Vera had already got herself up and out of the car, shooting him a warning glance. Gortald held his hands up in defence,

“Just trying to help.” He muttered, clasping his hands in front of him. Vera walked towards the front door, Gortald trailing behind her. Brown Eye’s movements swift and controlled now that she was back to herself. _Gortald’s calculations were spot on as usual._ She realised ruefully, _Ten minutes, and it’s like nothing ever happened._ Though her senses were still buzzing, she felt almost herself, if that was possible. She stepped off the gravel and onto the tiled front porch, pulling her eyes down from the tall building to look at the door. Her hand paused by the door knocker as she admired the detail of the wooden carving. Flowers and trees and what Vera thought resembled a stag and a doe decorated the entrance. She felt transported by the carvings. “Beautiful, isn’t it.” Gortald breathed, coming to stand beside her. Vera gave a small jump, she was easier to startle when coming down from a high, and the sudden presence of Gortald talking in her ear certainly wasn't appreciated. 

“Could you back up?” She shot at him. Gortald gave her a resigned look,

“Again, Brown Eyes-”

“It’s Vera.”

“-I’m just trying to help.” The two looked at each other in annoyance, then Gortald smiled and pulled some keys out of his pocket and held them out to her. Vera looked at them quietly. The chauffeur walked over the gravel towards them, a black backpack in hand. Vera took the keys from Gortald. Plain, silver, functional keys. The chauffeur placed the black backpack on the porch next to her and gave a small bow before returning to the car. Vera’s heart sank,

“You’re not coming inside.” She realised. Gortald shook his head,

“Goodness, no. May the sun light your path.” Gortald wished her good luck the Bochardian way, “Have fun.” And with that Gortald marched with urgency back to his car. The chauffeur started the engine and in a few moments the luxurious ride was out of sight, the purr of its engine fading into the swaying of the trees and the crackle of the brittle leaves. Vera looked down at the keys, then the door. She’d been left in the silence of the snow. Whatever was inside Gortald wanted no business with, which could only mean the vilest of persons lay within. _If they scare Gortald then they certainly scare me._ Vera gave herself a mental shake and unlocked the door, getting whatever may be ahead over with. She picked the back pack up and cautiously grabbed the door knocker, golden metal in the shape of two leaves intertwining with each other, and pushed. 

The creak seemed to echo throughout the whole house and Vera inwardly winced. She forced herself to relax and shut the door behind her, allowing the back pack to slip down to the floor. She tried to leave it there, but couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and readjust its position so it was neatly propped against the wall. She pocketed the keys, placed her hands in her trouser pockets, and meandered around the space, taking in the decor. It was far warmer inside than out. The hallway was tall and wide, leading to a set of chocolate coloured stairs with what she presumed was a hand carved, wooden bannister, as intricate as the front door. Her brown eyes glanced to her right, a set of double doors led to another room. She remained still, the house was silent so she assured herself she was alone, that whoever it was Gortald had been so frightened of wasn’t here presently, and grabbed the handles, pushing the double doors open. She found herself frozen in place once she’d entered. The room was gorgeous. A plain cream carpet matched well with an oak cabinet filled with tea sets and china. A large bay window let light stream in and catch patterns on the floor. Two couches sat facing each other at the other end of the room, one a salmon pink, the other cream like the carpet. Beyond them was an archway leading to a spacious, white kitchen. Vera stood up to her full height and took a few mesmerised steps into the room.  
“Who are you?” A deep voice spoke softly from behind her. The hairs on her neck stood up, the voice seemed to be right next to her, whispering from close quarters, but when she looked behind herself she saw the owner to be a few paces away, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and head held high. He moved his left arm and shut one of the double doors. He’d been standing partially behind it and the shadow it cast was pulled back giving Brown eyes a full view of the man. He wasn’t much shorter than Vera, something the tall female was not used to, and his skin was pale and showed hints of wrinkles. He wore an old fashioned suit. More old fashioned, if it were possible, than Gortald’s, and with far more obnoxious colours. A pattern of deep purple and off-white trimming his waistcoat. The man tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing in thought. It occurred to Vera that she had been standing and staring for too long. She gave a small dip of her head in greeting, 

“Gortald informed me you had need of a bodyguard.” She managed, explaining herself to him as clearly and precisely as she could. It felt good to have control over her language once more. The man’s eyes snapped wide, their hazel colour staring at her in shock. 

“He did now?” He murmured. Vera gave a nod, “Hm.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards her, crossing his arms once more and straightening himself up. He gave her a look up and down and then walked around her once, twice, in complete silence. “You’re younger than I’d expect.” 

“You’re older than I’d expect.” Vera couldn’t help herself, in the moments of quiet the greyness of this man's short hair and the peculiarity of his goatee, fashioned in a pattern she could only describe as ‘twirly’, had been screaming themselves at her. Vera took in a long breath, trying to bring her heart rate down. This man wasn’t as scary as she’d imagined, but he certainly wasn’t pleasant. He didn’t behave like most people did when they met someone for the first time. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze with equal calm and emptiness. 

“Not as much as I look.” He took a step back, standing still. “How did you come to know Gortald?” He spat the word ‘you’ as if Vera was some peasant below him. Vera tried to stand as tall as possible as the man examined her, making a point to look down at him. She may only have a few inches on this strange person, but she would make the most of them. 

“I helped him once, now he’s doing the same for me.” The man’s face was bemused. 

“Helped him! I find that hard to fathom. I’m good friends with him,” he drawled the words out like syrup, “And he tells me almost everything and he never has, and never will, require help from anyone.” The man chortled, revealing far too bright, white teeth. His smile was large and unnatural, and the snap from quiet and calm to laughter had shaken Vera, and so she found herself responding sharply. 

“Maybe he doesn’t tell you everything.” Her words were over pronounced and forceful, she did not like this man. “What happened between me and Gortald is my business.” The man laughed again, placing his free hand on his hip as he leant back for a good chortle, walking past her towards the double doors as he chuckled. Vera’s eyes followed him in confusion. He kept on laughing, and as if to help himself balance reached out his right hand to the handle of the remaining open door, gripping it tightly as he bent over in fits of giggles. “Are you quite finished?” Vera forced out between gritted teeth. Then, in a sudden snap, Brown Eyes felt the atmosphere in the room get sucked out. The change was like a light bulb being smashed out of its hold. Violent, quick, and the sudden rush of darkness terrifying. The man’s arm moved fast, the door slammed close. Vera startled at the noise and looked wide eyed at him in surprise. There was plenty of space between them, but it felt as if the man was charging as he covered it, and within moments his face was inches from hers, his eyes wide and crazed, his white teeth bared. He poked a finger sharply at her chest, 

“You will show respect.” He hissed, pausing between each word. There was a moment of silence as he slowly, so very slowly, leaned backwards, before he breathed, even quieter, “Or I will make you.” Vera didn’t take his threat seriously at first, but then he spoke again. “You should be used to doing what men ask of you, Vera. Why, it was your entire profession, was it not?” Vera didn’t move, she feared the air around her would shatter like glass if she did. She hadn’t felt this helpless in a long time and it was as if insects were crawling under her skin and up her spine. Her reaction caused a look of satisfaction on the man’s face. “I thought as much.” The man clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head as if Vera was his next meal. He looked her up and down again, and Vera found herself wishing for a few more inches on her height, for the first time in her life feeling small. The man abruptly clapped his hands together, causing Vera to jump once more. _I need to calm down._ She chastised herself. “Now, introductions.” He chirped. 

The man walked over to the cream couch and sat down, gesturing to the pink one opposite. Vera looked at the couch, feeling lost. Every movement was slow and clumsy. The conversation was a mine field. This man seemed impossible to read, and she didn’t want another outburst, but she’d be damned if she’d touch the colour pink. With a look of defiance, she grabbed a seat from a table sat by the bay window, and lugged it over to the couches, placing it facing the man. Vera didn’t know how the man had arrived at his conclusion about her past occupation, but she’d have to presume he was simply good at reading people and move on if she was to remain calm. She sat and waited, staring calmly at him, her breathing now regulated and her pulse slow. The man sat on the edge of his seat, leaning towards her. “I would prefer not to give you my real name,” He began quietly, “You can call me what everyone else does…” He paused, smiling, “John.” He laughed, flashing his bright teeth, “Not an extravagant name, I know, but it’s the one I go by.” _Names are names, how can one be extravagant?_ Vera puzzled. 

“Good to meet you, John.” She responded, words dripping with insincerity. “This is a job you’re offering me, isn’t it?” It was John’s turn to look puzzled,

“Well, it was Gortald actually, but, I suppose, yes.” He leant back, crossing one leg over another, resting his arms on his thighs. 

“In which case, what will my payment be.” Vera wanted to get this over and done with, so she just came out with it. John startled, clearly he wasn’t used to such direct questions. His face broke out into a large smile, and he gave a small chuckle. Vera felt instantly on edge, expecting a repeat of earlier. But John seemed relaxed, amused, even. The beast hadn’t roused this time.

“Gosh, you are rather forward, aren’t you?” He said, smiling his unsettling smile. _You’re rather backwards._ Vera couldn’t help thinking. “Why not have a bit of a chat first?” Vera glanced around the room,

“I thought we’d already had our little chat.” 

“Well then.” John responded, slapping his hands on his legs and sitting up straight, readjusting his position on the couch. He took a deep breath through gritted teeth and stroked his goatee thoughtfully, “Truth is, I don’t need a bodyguard.” He admitted. Vera’s shoulders tensed, _Did Gortald set me up?_ For a moment Vera wondered if she should just run, leave this place behind, none of this felt right to her. Her muscles were itching to move. But John hand’t finished, “It’s my daughter, not me, who needs protecting.” Vera narrowed her eyes, relaxing her legs,

“How old is she?” She asked.

“Nineteen.” John answered. Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath,

“Then she can babysit herself.” She snapped, shoving her hands in her trouser pockets and slouching over in annoyance. 

“I want you to leave just as much as you do,” John said calmly, “but if Gortald wants you to work for me, then we don’t have a say in the matter.” He sounded incredibly bitter. Vera was silent, she knew he had a point. _If this is what it's like to have Gortald owing you a favour I’d hate to think what it’s like to owe him a favour._ She shuddered at the thought. _But whatever authority Gortald has over John, he does not hold it over me. I will not work here, for this man, no matter what._ “How does 240 _dolch_ a day sound to you?” Vera’s pupils dilated and her posture gave out a little. Her mouth hung slightly open, she’d never even had 240 _dolch_ at one time before, let alone getting it every single day. It was a lot of money. _Don’t do it._

“I’m sorry, but I cannot accept the offer.” Vera firmly said. She didn’t trust this man, it was too much money, it made her suspicious. Something wasn’t being said and Brown Eyes didn’t want to stick around to find out what secrets hung in the clean air of this country house. She stood up and waited for John to do the same. After a few moments, he did. Very slowly. He looked her directly in the eyes in silence, then, so quietly Vera almost missed it, 

“That’s a shame.” His words held a hint of relief and triumph. Vera didn’t care. She gave him a nod and made her way quickly into the hall. “Good luck paying for sunshine.” John called after her. Vera froze just as she was bending down to pick up the backpack. She paused, and then looked back at him, 

“How-”

“I hear the price will be increasing soon.” He taunted. Vera narrowed her eyes and snarled, 

“What business have you with sunshine?” She spat. John shrugged, sneering at her, 

“As I said, I’m good friends with Gortald, and he tells me everything.” He dipped his head, “Have a safe journey.” And then John was gone, back into the sitting room presumably. He’d appeared from whatever hell hole he’d come from as quickly as he’d disappeared back into it. He reminded Vera of stories she’d heard as a kid of demons. Except those demons had never worn ties or cuff links. Vera was still for a few moments. She glanced around the hall and spotted a girl standing at the top of the chocolate stair case in a light pink night gown. She was shorter than Vera, less muscled, more smooth. Her black hair looked soft and Vera found her eyes drawn to the girls face. It was plain, with the plainest of green eyes that matched tanned skin. The girl didn’t smile, or react, she just looked at her blankly and in confusion, equally perplexed as Vera, as if she thought Vera an illusion. _I guess this is the daughter._ Brown eyes realised. They stood in silence, looking at each other, then Vera sneered and grabbed her backpack, slamming the door behind her as she left.

She walked purposefully down the drive way and onto the road, following the pavement back to the city. The snow had strengthened now and clusters of bright white snowflakes tumbled down to the ground. Vera carefully picked her way through the heavy snowfall and paused only once to reach into the backpack and pull out her phone, which Gortald had done the favour of collecting from her apartment. She dialled his number and didn’t even have to wait for the first ring before he picked up. Gortald’s polished voice echoed across the phone, 

“Vera, how was-”

“Never do that to me again, Gortald.” Vera hissed, putting the backpack back on and walking even faster through the forest, her feet aided by her seething fury. Her footsteps crunching in the muted silence of the forest under thick snow. 

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” 

“ ‘You will show respect or I will make you’ was my favourite part.” She snapped. Silence. 

“Ah, yes…” Gortald seemed to be struggling with his words, a rarity indeed, “John can be a bit…”  
“It doesn’t matter, I don’t care, I’m not taking the job.” More silence. 

“Vera, this is me trying to help you. This is me repaying my debt.” Vera laughed,

“Strange, because it feels an awful lot like it’s _me_ helping _you_.” A pause. 

“Fine. I’ll get someone else to do it.” Vera felt the conversation ending, but refused to be hung up on. Her anger had a strong hold on her and she needed to lash out, even if only a little bit. 

“Anyone but me.” She snapped, and ended the call, hoping the abrupt hang up was enough of a message to Gortald. A man of his rank had certainly never had such rude treatment before. _What a jerk._ She pocketed the phone and focussed on walking, her long legs making quick work of the journey. Soon the forest was thinning and the familiar grey apartments and stores were swarming around her. She didn’t stop in the west side of Bochardess, opting instead to wait at a bus stop further away from the area. The needless show of luxury was revolting. She leant against the bus sign and waited and within an hour or so she’d hopped on and off a bus and was outside her apartment building. The public transport was irregular and of a poor quality, but for the majority of Bochardian’s, too poor to own cars, it was all they had. 

Vera made her way inside and walked up the stairs to her home. The building was falling apart, the wall paper barely clinging to its position, but for all the building’s faults, Vera thanked her luck that the walls were reasonably soundproof. There was no doubt in her mind as to what went down in the other rooms of the shabby place, she’d experienced them first hand, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hear them. She reached her apartment and took out her keys, another important item Gortald had packed – clearly he’d expected her to turn the job down – and let herself in. The door pushed back a couple envelopes with ‘urgent’ written in red on the front. Vera didn’t need to look inside to know what they were. She shut the door and placed the backpack neatly on a small wooden chair in the corner, taking a moment to move one of the straps so it was parallel with the other. She would have liked to crash out on her plain white double bed, but the sheets were perfectly flat and clean, and she couldn’t bring herself to change that. So Vera sat in the corner of the room farthest from the door and put her head in her hands, taking long, slow breaths. Waves of anger and misery rolled off her and without consciously knowing it she found herself standing in front of her tiny, inefficient, fridge. She opened the door and stared inside. Cheap, verging on inedible, food dotted around the shelves. All in order, all meticulously labelled. But Vera’s brown eyes were fixated on one item in the centre of the fridge. A jam jar. 

Her apartment was so quiet, you could barely hear the traffic outside. The grey walls and floor gave a feeling of refreshing emptiness to Vera, and so when she reached into the fridge and grabbed the jam jar, and proceeded to pop open the top, the sound was so blissfully loud that Vera let out an audible sigh of happiness. She closed the jar, then opened it, then closed it, until her breath was even and her mind at peace. Her anger buried in the pop and turn of the jar’s lid. She placed the jam jar back in the fridge, sealed tightly, and shut the appliance. 

_You never have to go back there again._ She assured herself soothingly, _Never._ Her muscles loosened and relaxed, but one thing, one quite unexpected thing, was sticking in her brain. _What about the daughter?_ She blinked in surprise at her own concern, _What about her?_ Her mind silenced, the thought of that poor girl living in that house with that man for a father was not one she wanted to dwell on. _You never have to go back there._ She repeated. _Never._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story please leave a kudos and/or comment to let me know!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city of Bochardess has never been Kind to Vera, but by some stroke of luck she has finally managed to get herself a friend in high places, and a job.
> 
> Vera has been assigned as Emma's bodyguard. Vera has never been a bodyguard before. She doesn't know what she's protecting Emma from, she doesn't know who Emma is and she doesn't know why she's so eager to help her. All she knows is the job pays well, and she doesn't have another option.
> 
> Then Emma is attacked. Vera, fellow bodyguard Tsuru and Emma embark on a search to figure out what is going on, but it soon becomes clear that they are facing forces far greater than they could have imagined.
> 
> Toeing the line between giving up and letting her rage loose, Vera finds her situation ever more perilous as the days go by.
> 
> Can Vera, Tsuru and Emma figure out the mysteries of Bochardess before everything is lost?

** Chapter 2 **

“It can’t have gone up.” Vera hissed, clenching her fists. She was in a back room in the warehouse on the west side of Bochardess. Papers and locked suitcases littered the dirty room, and two metal seats stood in the corner, each with a thin man sat on top, playing a traditional Bochardian game, _bakbak,_ with each other. It was as freezing inside as it was out in the blizzard, no heating was in use within the warehouse. The dealer standing opposite her shrugged, 

“Not my problem, sudden increases happen, chick, get over it.” He slicked back his greasy black hair and gave her a nod, winking, “I have something else you’ll never get over.” He added. Vera narrowed her eyes, 

“You know I don’t appreciate innuendos.” 

“Right, right, sorry chick.” He mumbled, then, “There’s this new stuff, cheaper, better. why not go for that instead?” He held out a hand for Vera to shake. Vera cast a disdainful glance at his sweaty palm. She didn’t want to think about how many diseases it must have on it. 

“I only want _sunshine_.” She responded firmly. 

“Then I only got bad news, sweetheart, 240 _dolch_ a pop.” Vera stiffened, then took a step closer to him, towering over the little man, 

“240?” She repeated. The man swallowed and gave a nod, cowering in fear, his arrogant demeanour evaporated. Vera stood like that for a moment, seeing how much dread she could instil in the man, it was almost a game, then took a step back and paused in thought. _I could just grab some._ She wondered, _No, too risky, and they’d never let me have any more after that._ She folded her arms and tapped her foot on the floor as she thought through her options. She was already feeling lethargic and anxious without her fix, but all that vanished with the rush of adrenaline when she heard shouts from the main room of the warehouse. 

“Hands up!” A strong, male voice boomed throughout the building. The three dealers in the room only took a moment to freeze in fear before they sprung into action, packing away papers and throwing luggage out the window in a desperate display of flailing arms and hurled items. Vera herself was looking around for a place to escape. The dealers had too much luggage to deal with all at once, so the small man shoved a bag at her, 

“Here’s your sunshine, love.” He snapped. “May the sun light your path.” Then he fled out the window. Vera stood stupefied, a mild panic seizing over her. More voices began yelling in the main room, and Vera decided she had to get out quickly. She went to the window and chucked the bag through it, then began clambering after. The chair she was stepping on collapsed to the side under her weight and she crashed to the ground with a loud thud. She let out a sharp breath as pain bruised up her back and right shoulder. She stumbled back onto her feet, hearing footsteps fast approaching she reckoned that there wasn’t time for her to get out the window. She had to hide. She hit the light switch and ducked behind the open door, hiding between it and the wall. Her black outfit acting as a sort of camouflage. The footsteps grew nearer and soon two police officers, both average height and with pale skin that took on a green hint under the warehouse lights, were looking around the room. They didn’t think to check behind the door and exited. 

“Conner!” One of them yelled, “In here, we found someone! They’re getting away!” Confusion flooded Vera. They hadn’t seen her, so how could they know she was there? The tone of their voice wasn’t right either, and the language felt stilted and false. _It’s a trick._ She realised with a start. _What a time to prank a fellow officer._ She inwardly cringed, _just my luck._ She heard a set of footsteps running towards the room and a police officer rushed in. She heard laughs and giggles that distinctly reminded her of school children and then the door was forcibly pulled shut, leaving her out in the open. If it weren’t for the pitch black the closed door had caused ‘Conner’, as she assumed he was called, would have seen her for sure. She took a slow breath in and out, trying to silence her pulsing heart. She heard the officer grumble in a mixture of anger and frustration. 

“Very funny.” The man called after his fellow officers, then, “Blasted lights.” She heard some shuffling and guessed that he was feeling around for the light switch. To late Vera realised it was right above her shoulder, only a few inches from her. Vera tried to step away as quietly as she could, but the officer’s hand flipped the switch and artificial light flooded the small room. Vera squinted her eyes in response, as did the officer, whose brown eyes instantly shot to Vera as the bulb burst into life. Vera took note of the man’s features, the police officer had very, very shortly cut hair, he almost looked bald, those his age suggested it was by choice. Vera guessed he was no more than thirty-five. Conner had brown skin and a strong jaw line and was about the same height as Vera, if not a bit smaller. A rookie police officer was what Vera had been hoping for, they would hesitate and falter in a confrontation, but instead it seemed someone with a bit more experience he been thrust into the situation. Brown Eyes dipped her head awkwardly,

“Hi…” She said as casually as the situation would allow. The officer was silent, his arm still outstretched towards the light switch. He looked at her blankly, obviously surprised to see her, and blinked. Then, quicker than Vera had thought possible, the man had grabbed his gun and trained it on her. Instinctively, Vera grabbed the gun in his hands and turned it away from her, trying to pull it out of his grasp. It was a risky move, one she hadn’t consciously chosen, but luckily the officer hadn’t had the stomach to pull the trigger. _That’s something at least._ She ripped the gun from his grasp and chucked it across the room. The officer dived after it and Vera made her move towards the window, grasping desperately at the wall to haul herself up. She was half way through when Conner shouted out.

“Hold it there!” He warned, pointing the gun at her. Vera froze and looked back at him, mid escape. His gun was wavering ever so slightly. Brown Eyes looked closely at his face, reading him. His brows were furrowed. His face seemed, and it may seem odd that Vera thought this at such a time, friendly. Trust worthy, even. “Don’t climb out that window.” He said, his voice softer this time. He was taking a step towards her. Vera felt like a car was bearing down on her, and she could run or tank the hit. The man took another step towards her, taking one hand off the gun and reaching it out to her, “It’s okay, come on down, we can work this out, you don’t look like the cause of all this.” Vera didn’t move a muscle, she was in the purgatory of deciding, her fight or flight instinct seemed to have momentarily taken a break. The man smiled at her gently, genuine sympathy in his eyes, “It’s okay, it happens.” He paused, then, “Dealer or user?”

“Neither.” Her response was faster than she’d thought it would be, her voice shaky. It held a hint of shame she hadn’t expected. Conner narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, he clearly didn’t believe her. Vera let out a breath, “User.” She said quietly, putting on the most pitiful expression she had in her arsenal. The officer’s sympathy seemed to be growing as the gun lowered. It was all Vera needed. She kicked out with her left leg to push his gun off target while allowing herself to slip through the window and towards the pavement outside. She heard him yell ‘Hey!’ In surprise, and then felt the pavement meet her back. The second fall in as many minutes. She let out a groan, but at least she hadn’t fallen onto the bag filled with _sunshine_ , and a heap of snow on the floor had prevented any major damage. Vera took in a few sharp breaths as she got to her feet, the snow melting into her clothes and seemingly her bones, given how her limbs now shivered. She glanced at the bag through the fast, snow filled winds that whipped around her. It was heavy, it would weigh her down and increase her chances of being captured. _But it has_ sunshine _inside._ She yanked the zipper open and went to grab a syringe, but Conner was clambering out the window after her. She sneered and let out a sharp breath of annoyance, glancing at the drugs one more time, before sprinting off through the snow. 

“Wait!” The officer helplessly called, giving chase, his voice stolen easily by the wind. He was slower than her, and he wasn’t willing to shoot, given that no bullets were firing, and so it took Vera no time at all to disappear into an alley way and hide behind some bins. The stench of rotten food was overpowering, Bochardian’s had a taste for overly sweet food and highly salted meat, there was to be no subtlety in flavour. The _Bochardian flourish_ was ever present in all walks of Bochardian life. As a consequence the rubbish the city produced was particularly pungent and Vera crinkled her nose at the smell. Conner rushed past and as soon as he was gone Vera ran back the way she’d come, eager to be rid of the garbage, hoping the stench hadn’t clung to her clothes. It didn’t matter, she washed them every night regardless. For a moment Vera thought she’d be able to grab at least one syringe, but she stopped in her tracks when, through the blizzard, she made out the silhouettes of police swarming the area around the bag, and turned and walked as casually as she could the other way, acting as if she’d never seen the warehouse before, allowing the sunshine to slip away from her grasp. No one stopped her or tried to talk to her, and with her heart in her throat, she made her way away from the warehouse. 

Vera entered her apartment a while after, and leant back against the closed door, before sinking to her feet, cushioned upon a pile of ‘urgent’ letters. Her apartment was only minutely warmer than outside. She sat like that for a few moments, breathing in and out, feeling adrenaline pulse through her veins. The sky was darkening and so she put her clothes in the wash, changed into her night outfit, and got herself into bed. She tucked the duvet covers just right so that minimal wrinkles were made, and then settled her head on her pillow and looked up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep.

Her dreams were weighed down by images of bags filled with _sunshine_ in syringes, and of officers chasing her. She ran down a long, black corridor, the lights had all burst and pitch blackness was suffocating her. Artificial lights flashed on and she was in a wide open space, in the distance John stood, hands clasped, smiling. He took one slow step towards her and in an instant was right in front of her, face to face, smirking. 

“You will show respect.” He told her, reaching a hand out to grab her arm. Vera took a few, stumbled, steps backwards, her brown eyes looking him up and down in confusion. _What is this?_

Vera startled awake, not from her dream, but because her alarm was piercing the silence of her room’s morning quiet. Not that she wasn’t grateful for the dream to be ended. She paused, _Dream?_ The details were out of her grasp, but she knew it had frightened her. _I haven’t had a nightmare for so long… I’m getting worse._ Brown Eyes fretted. She reached a pale hand towards the alarm clock and ceased the awful noise, the time read ‘7:00 am’. She felt itchy and dirty all over, she usually woke up before her alarm, not after. It was a form of ritual she liked to start the day with, it meant sleep was still under her control. _Clearly, it isn’t anymore._ She got up, made her bed, and dressed. She knew what she had to do. 

The phone didn’t ring even once, Gortald answered instantly. 

“Vera.”

“Do you sit all day staring at your phone?” Vera hissed in frustration. 

“Yes.” There was no joke in his voice, and Vera was taken aback. She recovered quickly, her heart already sinking at her approaching question. 

“I need the address.” She hated the idea of working for John, but it seemed like she didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, she had nothing else to do with her life, so why not? It couldn’t be any worse than what had come before. Vera could almost hear Gortald smiling over the phone, and instantly regretted asking.

“I thought-” The smugness in Gortald’s voice was palpable,

“You heard me.” She cut across him before he could gloat, her grip on the phone tightening in frustration. 

“Alright, it’s in the forest to the west of Bochardess, Blue Jay cottage. It’s the only house in the place, shouldn’t be hard to find, just walk down the road we drove the other day.” Gortald paused, “John won’t be there often, business has required him to work further a field, so you won’t have to deal with his character more than, say, once a month.” _That’s once a month too often._

“Thank you.” Vera went to hang up, but Gortald wasn’t finished,

“Oh, and by the way, your little outburst yesterday makes me think you aren’t qualified to do this job alone.” Vera froze, blinking a few times as she took this information in, _Alone…_

“Who?”

“Oh, they’re lovely, really, a very… strong personality.”

“Gortald, who did you hire?” Vera pushed, her voice rising.

“I’m sure you’ll get on like a house on fire. I’ll have him arrive later today.” 

“Gortald, don’t you dare, the last person you sent me to see was-” Vera paused as the line went dead, Gortald had hung up on her. _Touché._ “-crazy.” She finished anyway, she refused to let her words hang in the air. A sentence was constructed to be finished. She let out a grunt and put the phone in her pocket, then grabbed a black puffer jacket and a few essential things she put in her new backpack. She turned off all her appliances, depositing food from her fridge in the garbage so they wouldn’t rot in her room, and did one last clean of the place. She looked around. The cleanliness of an empty room was an unbeatable feeling, the order of the apartment was almost worth going to work for John. Almost. She left without a word to the landlord, she’d pay her bills once her first payment of 240 _dolch_ came in. 

She walked her way to the west of Bochardess. She was beginning to tire of the posh side of the city. The houses were still grey and in keeping with the dismal theme of the city, but twice as large, with two to three cars out front. Many had golden accents that shone smugly in the morning light. The unnecessary display of wealth never failed to set her skin itching. People called ‘hello’ to each other in the mornings, and had big meals together at the weekends that cost more than everything Vera owned. It was all too pleasant, too fake and too indulgent. Vera kept her head low and eyes forward, she hated this part of town. Entering the woods felt like a relief, and it took her a moment to appreciate how nice the forest actually was. Authentic, natural, forest. A house could be unassuming or grand. Soil could only ever be soil. 

Her feet crunched over brittle, winter leaves that had found their graves on the cement. The trees passed around soft whispers as their branches danced lazily in the wind. Some bare, some lush with green. Brown Eyes looked around, taking a moment to appreciate the air, clear and cold. She took long, deep breaths and found herself feeling at ease. It was as if her lungs were lighter, fitter, from breathing the stuff. Without feeling like she’d been walking too long the gate had approached on her left. The illusion of a quick walk had been aided by the peaceful nature of the wood. The gate was tall and magnificent, even more so when approaching on foot, and as beautifully detailed as she remembered the front door being. It remained shut this time, however, and she had to enter the code for the side gate instead. It felt wrong to enter through a different door, but she’d had no choice.

Her second time entering Blue Jay cottage was very different from the first. This time there was no more snow tumbling down from the sky as the blizzard had passed on. The gorgeous door of the cottage opened onto the hall way, and it occurred to Vera that the walls must be sound proof, as it was only on opening the door that she heard the noise of a violin. It was a soft, low noise. The player was using the lower strings, evidently, and it was a gentle sound that carried throughout the house. Vera slowly pushed the door closed, not wanting to startle whoever was playing. There was no way it was John, she couldn’t imagine a man like that producing a sound such as this one. It was unconventional. Vera herself was practised in violin and had some knowledge on how it should sound. And yet, the noise was not unpleasant. The unorthodox sound of the notes was a kin to how a beginner might play, holding the bow incorrectly, the violin far too heavy in their hand, but still, the noise had none of the mistakes, hesitation or frailty of a beginner. It was confident, swift and unashamed by its unperfected resonance. _Stop standing around like a lemon, go find out who it is._ She scolded herself, finding that she’d leant against one of the walls, arms crossed and head tilted, while she absent-mindedly listened. 

She let her backpack slide off her shoulders and onto the floor by the shoe rack before she cautiously made her way up the stairs, so entranced she paid no thought to the messy heap she’d left her bag in. The melody began to rise through the strings, gaining in both volume and pitch. A few incorrect notes, a couple squeaks from touching the wrong strings, and still, it continued as if all was fine. She couldn’t comprehend how such imperfections could ever be ignored, but she also couldn’t stop listening either. 

Vera hadn’t been onto the second floor yet. The chocolate coloured stairs had led onto a long, wide hallway with cream walls and a large window on the left hand side, through which sunlight glowed onto the soft carpet. The music seemed to be coming from a door directly right from the top of the stair case. Vera paused next to it, closing her eyes and taking a moment to appreciate the sound. _It must be the daughter._ She reckoned, given that she was the only other inhabitant. Vera opened her eyes and reached down to the door handle, grasping it gently she gave it a slow turn and pushed the door open. The music was instantly louder and more pure, the notes no longer contained by the room. It was as if a bubble around the sound had burst. Brown Eyes’ breath caught at the sight in front of her. The daughter was swaying around the room, eyes closed and brows furrowed, as she played on a dark oak violin. Her bow was swift and efficient. The room only added to the fairytale atmosphere, with a four poster bed buried in decorative pillows of all colours and kinds, and a large bay window with a pale pink window seat overlooking the extensive green grounds of the estate. The sunlight had found its way through this window too and was casting light and shadows on the dancing girl. A white vanity, chest of draws and wardrobe, all seemingly hand carved, sat in the left side of the room next to a door Vera assumed led to an ensuite, no doubt as luxuriously decorated as the bedroom. The floor was carpeted with a large, plain rug covering the majority of the floor. Vera could almost feel its soft touch as the girl’s bare feet moved over it. 

The room may have been gorgeous, but the daughter was a whole different story. She was shorter than Vera, but the curves of her figure caught the light in just the right way, her bronze skin smooth in the morning glow. Her unbrushed black hair fell over her shoulders and back, which was garbed in a pastel blue vest top accompanied by white, frilled pyjama shorts. Vera, aware she was staring, gave a small noise to announce her presence. 

“Ahem.” She coughed awkwardly. The girl jumped, letting out a small yelp. The song ended on a screeching note as the bow was jerked across the strings. All the elegance of the moments before gone. The girl turned clumsily to look at her with plain green eyes.

Silence. 

“Hello?” The daughter spoke first, letting the violin and bow drop lazily to her side, examining Vera as if she wasn’t sure she was real. Vera’s mouth had gone dry and it took her a moment to compose herself. She dipped her head,

“Good morning.” She managed. The girl was still, and there was an awkward pause as she deposited her violin on a stand in the corner. The girl walked over to Vera and tilted her head to the side in expectation, then furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, 

“And you are…?”

“Vera.” Brown Eyes blurted out, extending her hand in greeting. The girl took it and gave it a firm shake. The girl didn’t say anything, just looked at her in amazement. “What’s your name?” Vera asked after a pause. 

“I’m Emma.” The girl smiled at her and Vera didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t every day you introduced yourself to your new charge. It wasn’t every day you started your new job as a bodyguard.

“I’m your new bodyguard.” Vera explained awkwardly, letting go of Emma’s hand. The girl gave a small jump of happiness before she pushed past her and into the hallway, descending the stairs.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” She called excitedly, thumping loudly down each step, replacing her previous grace with childish glee. _She’s so excited, you’d think this girl had never met another person before._ Vera thought. She gave a last glance into the room, then turned to go down the stairs after her. She paused, noticing another set of stairs leading upwards towards a door. She eyeballed the wooden thing and guessed it was locked from the keyhole it had that no other door in the cottage did. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, then followed after Emma down the stairs, her own footing far more subdued. 

Emma was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her pleasantly with her hands clasped behind her back. She gestured at the door, “Front door.” She explained proudly. Vera arched an eyebrow, 

“Never would have guessed.” She murmured. Emma pointed at the dark coloured coat stand near the door, and shoe rack, 

“Put your stuff there…” Her green eyes darted to the backpack, “As I see you already have.” Vera instantly noted the unkempt position she’d left the bag in and hurried over, swiftly repositioning it to be neatly propped against the wall, just as she had done the last time. Emma paused in thought, her arm dropped to her side as she glanced around the entrance. She pointed away from the front door, down the other end of the hallway, “There’s a spare room and a toilet that way, should you need it, and through here-” Emma grabbed the handles of the double doors and threw them open to reveal the sitting room. It was the same as before, cream carpet, oak cabinet, salmon and cream couches. By the bay window was a small dark brown wooden table, and two chairs on either side. Emma spun around to look at Vera as she entered the room. “Cool, right?” She asked, smiling brightly. Her teeth, she noted, were a normal white, not blinding like her father’s, and her smile felt natural and sweet, not forced and artificial. _She’s so different from him._ She thought to herself. 

“I suppose.” She murmured in agreement. She’d already seen the room and her awe was beginning to wane. Emma seemed put off, and so Vera forced what she hoped was a smile, “It’s a nice room.” She added. The daughter seemed satisfied and made her way to the kitchen. Vera followed after her, taking note of the smaller details of the room. The carvings on the cabinet, the coffee table by the couches and the patterns chiselled into the arch way leading to the kitchen. Emma opened a few cupboards and draws to show her where the cutlery and ingredients where, Vera making mental notes of what was important, and resolving to organise the space better when she got the chance. _At the very least label a few things._

“Now…” Emma breathed in excitement, turning towards the only non-wooden door Vera believed the house had. It was at the end of the kitchen, overlooking the grounds. Emma pushed it open, then abruptly recoiled and shut the door. 

“Cold?” Vera asked in amusement. Emma was still in her pyjama’s after all. Emma pouted,

“Maybe.” She sulked, walking past Vera to grab a coat from the hallway. While Brown Eyes awaited her return, she poked around the kitchen. It was stocked with ingredients for baking bread and cakes, and a few ready meals and fresh vegetables, though she noted a lack of meat, eggs and milk. _As long as there's food, who cares._ She thought. Vera paused, noticing a cross on the wall above one of the kitchen surfaces. Wooden, of course, with a gold heart in the centre, with ‘Love and forgiveness’ written on it in small, elegant letters. _Sure._ She thought sarcastically. “Follow me!” Emma’s voice announced her return. She was wrapped in a massive blue coat with furry trimming that Vera guessed was fake, given the lack of other animal products in the house. Emma’s bare feet were covered in two brown boots. Emma noted what Vera was looking at and smiled, “Are you religious too?” She asked, placing her hand on a necklace around her neck, attached to which was a small golden cross with ‘Love, Father’ engraved in delicate writing. Vera had only just noticed it. Vera shrugged, 

“I’m too sane for it.” She commented. Emma was silent, her smile dropped. Brown Eyes glanced at her with a neutral expression, guilt tugging at her. _Religion never helped me._ She thought bitterly, _I won’t hide how I feel about it._ She pushed down her discomfort and stuck with her words. To her surprise, Emma took a breath and smiled again, not as brightly this time, the sight was a knife twisting in her belly.

“If that’s how you feel, that’s fine, you will always be accepted regardless of what you think.” Emma turned and opened the door, walking outside, “Come on now! The sports facilities are the real highlight.” She chimed, leaving the topic swiftly. Vera watched her in silence, it certainly wasn’t the response she’d expect from a Christian, she’d imagined them to be as intolerant as _Uurists,_ who followed the local Bochardian religion of _Uurism,_ but perhaps she’d been wrong. That feeling of guilt was raising its ugly head once more. She sneered and let out a sharp breath, then followed Emma outside, shutting the door behind her.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city of Bochardess has never been Kind to Vera, but by some stroke of luck she has finally managed to get herself a friend in high places, and a job.
> 
> Vera has been assigned as Emma's bodyguard. Vera has never been a bodyguard before. She doesn't know what she's protecting Emma from, she doesn't know who Emma is and she doesn't know why she's so eager to help her. All she knows is the job pays well, and she doesn't have another option.
> 
> Then Emma is attacked. Vera, fellow bodyguard Tsuru and Emma embark on a search to figure out what is going on, but it soon becomes clear that they are facing forces far greater than they could have imagined.
> 
> Toeing the line between giving up and letting her rage loose, Vera finds her situation ever more perilous as the days go by.
> 
> Can Vera, Tsuru and Emma figure out the mysteries of Bochardess before everything is lost?

** Chapter 3 **

Emma had finished showing Vera around the grounds. The extent of sporting equipment was ludicrous, and verging on obnoxious. Its only saving grace was that, unlike the fancy houses of West Bochardess, the cottage and its facilities were tucked away in a forest and so were purely functional, not a needless show of wealth. “Swimming pool…Running track…” Vera furrowed her brows and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, Emma had challenged her to list all the facilities from memory. She clenched her fists as she racked her brain, “Don’t tell me, don’t tell me.” She murmured, opening her eyes and looking at the wooden table her arms rested on. 

“Squash court.” Emma explained. Vera’s gaze snapped up to her in a glare,

“Do you not understand the meaning of don’t tell me?” 

“And you also missed out the trampoline.” Emma smiled smugly, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. Vera gave a laugh,

“How many sport’s facilities can one girl need?” She scoffed. Emma’s green eyes fastened themselves on the ground, she mumbled a few words Vera didn't hear. “Pardon?” Vera asked, wondering what Emma had said. The girl gave a shrug,

“Nothing.” She paused, then looked Vera up and down, “What’s your surname?” Vera noted the swerve in conversation but went along with it. If the girl had secrets she could keep them to herself. Vera couldn’t care less. 

“Ivanova.”

“Middle name?”  
“My parents didn’t bother.” 

“Oh.” Emma was silent, then, “Nothing’s better than something like ‘Gertrude’.”

“You’re middle name’s Gertrude?” Vera arched an eyebrow. Emma looked up at her, then flailed her arms in protest,

“No, no, I just meant as an example-”

“What is it you have against the name Gertrude, anyway?” Vera added, faking annoyance with a narrow of her eyes. Emma looked taken aback,

“No, honestly, I was just picking a name I thought sounded odd… I mean, I’m sure it’s a lovely name, really, it’s just…” Emma seemed flustered and Vera couldn’t help the small glee in the pit of her stomach. She leant back,

“I’m kidding.” She relented. Emma paused, then calmed herself. Vera’s expression was neutral as she examined the other girl. She was happy to make idle chat, but she had no intention of getting to know her. Given her father’s behaviour, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was some underlying insanity to the daughter. 

“Your surname,” Emma asked, “It doesn’t sound…” Emma searched for the word, Vera guessed the coming question,

“Bochardian?” 

“Exactly. It doesn’t sound Bochardian.” 

“I’d hope not. It’s Russian.” Vera explained, folding her arms over her chest. Emma’s face fell into awe,

“You’re…” She leant in, “Russian?” Vera gave a slight nod of her head. Emma broke into a smile, “Привет меня зовут Эмма.” she said. Vera stared blankly at her. The girl switched back to the native language when she got no response. “Can you help me learn some Russian?” Vera furrowed her brows,

“I don’t speak Russian, I just have Russian ancestry.” 

“So?” Emma shrugged.Vera tilted her head, 

“How could I possibly teach you Russian if I can’t speak it myself?” Vera hissed. 

“Oh.” Emma trailed off, “Fair point.” 

“It’s a miracle…” Vera breathed sarcastically, “It can talk without needing a brain.” Emma scowled at her, and Brown Eyes felt, with a sinking send elf dread, that this job would become very tiresome very quickly. It looked at if Emma was about to say something more, but whatever it was, she was interrupted by the noise of a motorbike screeching its way through the front gates and onto the drive. It was the most deafening sound Vera had heard, which, considering she’d heard gunshots before, was an achievement. Emma paused, her face a picture of disbelief. Then, above the noise,

“Are we due visitors?” Vera glanced out the window, rising to her feet as the sound dimmed, the drag of the conversation being replaced with apprehension.

“Yes.” Was her only answer. She walked past Emma with purpose, grabbing her jacket off the coat rack, and went to the front door. Whoever this was Gortald himself had assigned them to be Emma’s bodyguard. There was no doubt in Vera’s mind that they had to be one of the most loathsome human beings on the planet, given how horrid John had been. She mentally prepared herself and opened the door, taking a moment to slip on her shoes before walking out onto the gravel. Emma had pulled on her coat and followed out after Vera, standing slightly behind the taller girl as if trying to hide, peaking out to get a view of the new person. Brown eyes cast a glance down at the shorter girl in frustration. She’d only known the girl half a day and she was already acting like she a child. _Bodyguard. More like babysitter._ She thought bitterly. 

Whoever this new person was, they were of average height, their skin pale. The motorbike was the most obnoxious red Vera had ever seen and the owner wore a red leather jacket to match it. Despite having not one, but two, helmets attached to the back of their vehicle the person had decided to wear neither, opting instead for large, black sunglasses. _In the middle of winter._ Vera added to herself. The person, Vera presumed male, parked the bike and swung their leg over, pausing to look around before settling his gaze on the two of them. Emma shrank back, Vera straightened to her full height. The man grabbed a coffee cup that, somehow, had been sitting upright on the motorcycle’s seat and sauntered his way over to them. He craned his neck to look up at the cottage, and Vera cast her mind back to when she'd first set her eyes on the gorgeous structure, to how impressed she’d been at its beauty. 

“Pathetic house.” The lithe man murmured to Vera’s surprise, glancing down to look at her and Emma, “Oh, and owners to match.” He stopped in front of them and pulled his sunglasses down to peer at them. His brown eyes were framed by dark black eye brows, and sleek, short, black hair. Vera glanced behind him, at the red motorbike, and opened her mouth to comment on its bright colour. She knew how to drive motorbikes, but she didn’t own one. If she did, she’d be sure to get one in a more subtle colour. “Touch it, you die.” The man said, pushing his sunglasses back on and walking swiftly past her and into the house, pulling a phone out of his pocket and typing away on it. Emma and Vera turned to watch after him. Emma let out a small question of confusion,

“Who are-?”

“Name’s Tsuru.” He cut her off, her voice hinting at adolescence despite looking in his late-twenties. Then he disappeared into the downstairs spare room, slamming the door behind him. Silence settled over the two girls. Vera let out a breath,

“Well. That's one way to make an introduction.” She looked down at Emma who looked up at her in silence. Then,

“You weren't any more pleasant.” Emma pointed out. Vera's brows furrowed,

“What are you talking about?” She snapped, hands on hips, looking down at the girl in offence. _And John thought I was direct._ Emma gave a small, crooked smile, looking at the ground,

“You just stared at me, then made a face and slammed the door.” She reminded her, looking back up. Vera sneered and let out a breath, looking off over the green ground. Emma piped up, “Yeah! That face right there!” Vera's hands dropped to her side and she turned to go back inside the cottage in a strop,

“Whatever.” She muttered indignantly, clenching her fists. The daughter was proving to be highly irritating. 

“I almost can't tell you two apart.” Emma continued her teasing, following after Vera, closing the door behind them. Vera glanced back at her with narrowed eyes but said nothing. 

“When you two are done flirting,” Tsuru’s voice pulled Vera's gaze back in front of her, causing a blush of red to spread across Emma's cheeks, and probably Vera’s own, which she opted to ignore. Tsuru had reappeared from his room, having lost the red jacket and sunglasses, now just wearing a cream top and grey jeans, “I'd like to have some lunch.” He announced. Vera raised an eyebrow, 

“Good to know.” She said, gesturing towards the kitchen. Emma didn't seem fazed by the rude demand.

“Yeah, I’m hungry.” Emma complained, patting her stomach sadly. Vera shot her a look.

“Hi Hungry, I'm Tsuru.” He joked, flashing a smug smile and a wink. Vera’s brain couldn't comprehend how someone could tell such a joke. It almost defied logic. _Both of them are naturally irritating._ Vera realised in horror. She glanced down at the daughter and noticed that she was just as stunned. Vera took her gaze away swiftly, then looked back at her a second time. The girl seemed lost,

“It was a pun.” Vera clarified. Emma looked up at her with eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “He knows your name isn't actually ‘hungry’.” Emma looked relieved, and Vera couldn't hold back the feeling of frustration. This girl was just so slow, it was agonising to watch. Tsuru gave Emma a disapproving look as he walked past them and into the dining room.

“That makes more sense.” Emma gave a nod. Tsuru let out a low whistle,

“Now that we have introductions out the way, please tell me you’re redecorating soon.” He murmured, looking around the place. Vera reckoned her and Tsuru’s taste for décor were very distinct from each other.

“No.” Emma retorted stubbornly. 

“I suppose light does travel faster than sound.” He mused. 

“What?” Emma asked in confusion, looking at the boy poking around the cabinet intrusively. 

“Well, you appeared bright before I heard you speak.” He sniped as he turned his attention to the arch way that led into the kitchen. Emma seemed unfazed, amused, even.

“Can you just stop, please?” Vera asked, coming to her wits end, not as tolerant of Tsuru’s humour as Emma was. Emma gave a small laugh and Vera looked down at her in puzzlement. The shorter girl gave a shrug, trying to contain her smile,

“He's kinda funny.” She whispered, “I like him.” Vera was going to respond but Tsuru beat her to it, somehow having heard from the kitchen. His voice carried out to them in the sitting room,

“My charms strike again, I see.” Vera hunched over and let out a long breath, then turned her head to Emma,

“Don't encourage him.” She grumbled, stalking off to the kitchen, straightening her posture along the way. 

“Sorry.” Emma said in a light tone and hurried after her. Tsuru had opened all the cupboards and spilt the contents onto the kitchen surfaces. He was fumbling with a bag of bread. Vera stood still, her skin crawling at the unorganised mess Tsuru had managed to unleash in a few moments. Vera had thought the room untidy before, but now the clutter was sending her mind into a frenzy. 

“Hey, Hungry, where do you keep the butter? All I could find was this… stuff.” He gestured in disgust to what looked like a butter container but said ‘dairy free’ on the front. 

“Oh…uh.” Emma stalled a bit, twiddling her fingers. Tsuru opened the bag and pulled the bread out, then looked back at Emma when she didn’t respond. His face fell. 

“Don't tell me…” He breathed in dread. Vera turned her brown eyes down to Emma, not following. 

“I don't eat animal products.” Emma revealed. Tsuru stood very still, staring at her in silence as if he wasn't sure she was being serious. Vera glanced between Emma and Tsuru, not understanding what all the fuss was about. _As long as one has sustenance to survive, what else matters?_ She thought in confusion. She had been all too familiar with starvation in the past. Tsuru let out a long breath,

“Not even chicken?” He croaked out. Emma shook her head, Tsuru’s voice raised to a terrified squeak, “Bacon?” Emma smiled sympathetically and shook her head once more. Tsuru lowered his eyes in defeat, letting the bag of bread drop to the counter. “Dear God…” 

“Food is food.” Vera cut in sharply, pointing at the masses of the stuff Tsuru had raided. The boy looked around himself as if lost, and Vera felt her frustration growing. Tsuru snapped out of his stupor, 

“Right, grass and dirt for breakfast, lunch and dinner and my salty tears to drink. I’m sure I can manage.” He spurred into action, grabbed everything green in sight. He reached for a plant on the window sill and Vera had to take it out of his hands before he began chopping, 

“This is an orchid.” She pointed out, putting it back and starting to clean the room up. 

“Okay. You.” Tsuru pointed at Emma, “Hungry, find me something that’s long, hard and has cum in it.” Vera’s eyes widened and her breath hitched in shock. She stopped her organising to turn dark, hateful eyes on him. He'd crossed a line there, Vera couldn't tolerate inappropriate comments.

“ _Uurgoe,_ Tsuru!” She hissed, cursing the Bochardian way and cuffing him over the head forcefully. Tsuru flinched and feigned emotional hurt, even going as far as to place his hand on his heart. 

“Found it!” Emma said gleefully, holding out a cucumber to Tsuru, who smiled pleasantly at her. Vera took a moment to apply Tsuru’s criteria to the vegetable and put her face in her hands, letting out a long groan.

“Thank you,” Tsuru said to Emma, then looked pointedly at Vera, “At least one of you is nice.” Vera protested,

“I thought-”

“What a dirty mind.” Tsuru tutted, chopping the cucumber. Vera glared at him, her fists clenching. Emma grabbed Vera's arm and gently guided her away from the man making cucumber sandwiches, Vera recoiled from the contact and snatched her arm away, glaring down at the girl.

“Deep breaths.” Emma murmured jokingly, having led her back into the sitting room. Vera had been wrong; this wasn't one of the most loathsome human being on the planet. This was the most loathsome human being on the planet. _I'm going to murder Tsuru, and then Gortald._ She resolved. “Hey!” Emma's soft voice brought her back to the present, and out of her growing temper. The girl had reached up and given her cheek a small pat with her hand to bring her focus back. Vera flinched away and took a few paces backwards, _Personal space!_ Her mind screamed. Vera found herself looking at the shorter girls face, and Emma returning the look in kind, “He’s just messing with you, ignore him.” Vera hated comments like this. When had ‘calm down’ or ‘ignore him’ ever actually calmed someone down? But, in spite of herself, she knew she needed to take a breather. She forced her heart rate to fall, her fists to unclench and her muscles to relax. She straightened up, 

“You’re right.” She relented, looking straight ahead of her, “But I'll be damned if I'm not putting bugs under his pillow tonight.” She added bitterly. Emma tried not to laugh at that but it just came out as an abrupt snort, and Vera had to fight the urge to join in, though a smile tugged at her lips for a brief second.

“Hey!” Tsuru interrupted, slamming a plate of cucumber sandwiches on the round table by the bay window, “Bone app the teeth.” Vera and Emma looked at him blankly. Tsuru gave a grunt of resignation, stalking off into the hallway and presumably to his room, “They don't even know memes.” Vera heard him say. She paused as the room settled back into silence, the whirlwind that was Tsuru gone. She looked down at Emma, who looked up at her, and then they looked at the sandwiches. Emma laughed again, and Vera might have smiled just one more time. Emma stilled, something occurring to her, then looked up at Vera, 

“I haven’t shown you your room.” She exclaimed, and then with little warning scurried out the room and up the stairs. Vera took a moment to register the sudden departure and then followed with less enthusiasm. She picked up her bag and ascended the stair case. Emma was standing in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Vera glanced over her shoulder and looked up the stairs leading to the top floor. She pointed at the door,  
“What’s through there?” She asked. Emma looked up there and her expression deepened forebodingly. 

“We’re not allowed up there.” She murmured deeply, “Ever.” Vera glanced at her, and then the door, and let the topic drop. Emma turned her attention back to Vera’s bedroom door and pushed it open. Vera caught a glimpse of her room. Gortald hadn’t been lying, it was minuscule. It had grey walls and a plain carpet and looked to have been a washing room previously, given the washing machine and ironing board which took up a third of the room. The rest was occupied by one chest of draws, a small bed with plain grey sheets, and a tiny bed side table with an old lamp a top it. Only a small space was left for Vera, in which she could just about make a full turn. Emma looked up at her guiltily, “Sorry.” She murmured. Vera didn’t need an apology, she entered the room and breathed in the air, feeling refreshed by the small, functional space. It was all she could ask for. 

“Perfect.” She commented, placing her back pack carefully atop the chest of draws, lining the straps up so that they were straight and parallel. She dismissed Emma with a wave of her hand and began unpacking her bag. _This will do._ She thought contentedly to herself. Vera felt eyes on her and turned to see Emma still standing there, looking confused. “You can go now.” Vera reinforced her earlier sentiment. Emma’s looked changed from confused to understanding, and then to disappointment, 

“Right.” She muttered and slowly thudded her way back down the hall and to her bedroom. Vera shook her head and sneered. _What a strange girl._ She finished unpacking and went downstairs. She spent a few hours organising the kitchen, a couple more cleaning. She even prepared a meal for tonight. But eventually the tasks she could perform were exhausted. Vera was forced to settle down on the cream coloured couch, keeping as far away as she could from the pink one, with some reading material she’d found that seemed the most uncontroversial. Emma was off doing whatever it was Emma did, and Tsuru had locked himself in his room, the faint noise of him typing on his phone could be heard through the door, and so Vera was left in peace to read. She started with some philosophy books, but the sentences were needlessly long and complex and it drove Vera mad. Sometimes she found herself lost in the words, unable to remember how the sentence had begun. It didn’t take her long to give up on the eccentric writings of philosophers and swap to a magazine about economics. She found her luck no better there, either, and was soon just sitting, quietly observing the room. Boredom crept up her as fast as she’d expected, and she couldn’t push the image of that bag of sunshine out of her head, the syringes just lying there, unused. She sprung to her feet and paced around, examining the room, but her mind never wandered off the prospect of more drugs. Her fingers twitched with an insatiable urge, and she fled to the kitchen. _If I can’t have sunshine, the least I can have is a jam jar._ She thrust open the fridge. She knew there were no jam jars in there, she’d memorised exactly what food was kept in the appliance, but she couldn’t help it. She overturned boxes and pushed aside cartons, the order she’d enforced crumbling at the end of her desperate finger tips. Emma crept up on her without her realising, leaning down next to her, her head just to the right of hers. The other girl peered into the fridge in interest,

“What are you doing?” She whispered secretively. Vera jumped and fell over onto her back in a heap, crawling away from the source of the noise in a mild panic. She stilled and looked, sat on the floor and breathing heavily, at Emma. Brown Eyes did not like being snuck up on, and she shot daggers at Emma in fury,

“Do not sneak up on me.” Her words were dark and low. Emma didn’t take note of her tone, or chose not to, and repeated her earlier question.

“What were you doing?” She asked, gesturing at the attacked fridge. Vera glanced at the fridge and then to Emma. 

“I…” Vera’s voice cut itself off, and she had to swallow and take a breath, getting herself to her feet and standing to her full height. “I was looking for jam jars.” She admitted. It might seem trivial, but to Vera felt like such a personal thing to reveal when just meeting someone, but she hadn’t had much choice. Emma tilted her head, and Vera felt the incoming question like a tidal wave crashing over her.

“Why?”

Vera's eyes went fuzzy, she swayed on her feet. Her fists clenched and she had to take another, shaky breath, grounding herself. 

“I don’t know.” She lied. Emma seemed unconvinced. Vera looked to the side, uncomfortable under the shorter girl’s scrutinising gaze. “I was bored.” 

“So you were looking for a jam jar?” Emma gave a small laugh, “That’s a bit strange.”

“Leave it.” Vera hissed, pointing at the ground for emphasis. Emma stunned, and then gave a small nod, 

“Sure.” She said, confused, then, “When I’m bored I read.” 

“I’ve tried that.” Vera grumbled, opening the fridge and tentatively rearranging it. 

“I also play instruments when I’m bored, or play sports, or-”

“I don’t care what you do when you’re bored.” Vera sneered, putting a carton of almond milk back on its shelf. She just wanted this girl to leave and stop pestering her. Emma was silent and Vera hoped she’d left, but then she spoke once more. Quieter this time,

“I don’t know what my Mum did when she was bored, she died when I was young, but when my Dad’s bored he drinks.” She offered, “ And debates. He debates quite a lot when he drinks.” Emma stalled, “But I don’t know where he keeps his wine.” She trailed off, looking around. Vera finished with the fridge and stood up, shutting it. She looked at Emma, she hadn’t ever drunk much in one go, but she was familiar with how it could affect people. _Maybe it could offer some relief._ She thought, her urge for sunshine feeling like a sickness below her skin, so much so that she’d paid Emma’s comment of her mother’s death no heed. the only thing occupying Vera’s thoughts was how to ease her want for sunshine. Brown Eyes knew it was a dreadful idea to get drunk, especially on her first night at her new job, but she was so desperate to quell her need for sunshine that she’d stop caring. Vera set her mind to guessing where John might keep his alcohol. Her eyes strayed down to the floor, then once her mind had found an answer, snapped back to Emma. The girl had presumably lived in this house her whole life without ever discovering the wine. Therefore, Vera could think of only one explanation as to where it was. 

“I can make one guess.” She grumbled, marching past Emma and upstairs. Emma followed her with rushed footsteps as they ascended the stairs. Vera paused at Emma’s bedroom door. She looked down at Emma, “May I?” She asked, gesturing at the door.

“Sure, but I don’t see how…” Emma trailed off as Vera entered Emma’s room and stalked over to the vanity, going through her things. “What are you looking for?” Vera sneered in frustration. 

“A bobby pin.” She explained. Emma started, 

“Oh, you should have said so.” The girl then proceeded to pluck one carefully out of her hair. She held it out to Vera. “What do you need it for?” Vera didn’t answer, only snatched the pin from her with a look of triumph gracing her eyes. She smirked, then went back out into the hallway, walking up the stairs to the locked door. Brown Eyes presumed it led to John’s bedroom and office, given those rooms were not located anywhere else in the house. “Wait! You can’t!” Emma protested fearfully. Vera shrugged as she knelt down by the door and slotted the pin into the lock,

“Why not?” Vera had an insurmountable respect for privacy – or so she’d thought. A man like John was made to have his belongings poked through, he reeked of secrets. And anyway, Vera wasn't looking for secrets, she was looking for booze. _Oh great, so you’re stealing wine rather than information. That makes it okay._ Her conscience scolded her. “Shut up.” She muttered to herself. Her conscience took a back seat when she needed a fix. 

“I wasn’t saying anything.” Emma responded in confusion. Vera glanced at her, Emma was now knelt down beside her, looking at the door with apprehension and what Vera thought was a hint of excitement. 

“Nothing.” She muttered, returning her attention to the lock. The door clicked and swung open and Vera felt revulsion crawl up her back. The room was darkened, the curtains drawn, but in the shadows she could make out a large bed with a mountain of pillows. Needless extravagance. _Emma’s room is just like this._ Her mind reminded her, and Vera puzzled at that. It was true. _That’s different._ She protested with herself, standing and entering the room with caution. _How so?_ Vera blinked. _I don’t know, it just… is._ Brown Eyes turned her attention to the room. An oak desk was stationed by a window, and porcelain cups and cabinets from foreign countries dotted the large space. File draws boasted more complicated looking locks, and there, in the corner by a sofa covered in a fur blanket, was a wine case. “There.” Vera breathed, approaching the thing as if it were a wild animal. Emma hesitated at the entrance, 

“I really don’t think we should do this.” She whined. Vera looked back at her in frustration,

“Then leave.” She hissed, “John isn’t here, you have no reason to follow what he says.” She added, her words holding a sting to them that she knew wasn’t fair. She turned back to the wine cabinet and opened it, wondering what she should choose. To her surprise, she heard footsteps join her at the cupboard, and looked down to see Emma standing there, hands grasped tightly together in worry. Emma glanced sheepishly up at her,

“You could have put it nicer but… You’re right.” She said. Vera was still. Something beneath Emma’s words sparked worry in her. The hints of fear, of timidity, made Vera’s mind ponder on what could have caused such emotions. Vera pushed the thoughts from her mind and grabbed a few bottles before leaving the room. Emma followed more slowly, taking a few moments to look around a place Vera presumed she’d never seen. Emma paused to examine a document on the desk. She frowned, “Who’s Theodoric…?” She muttered.

“Come on.” Vera called impatiently from the doorway. Emma looked away from the document on the desk and left the room, closing the door and descending the stairs after her. Vera chucked one of the bottles at Emma, “Ever tried any?” She asked, opening her own bottle and taking a sniff. It smelt expensive and strong. 

“No.” Emma admitted. 

“Let me guess, you weren’t allowed.” Vera asked. Emma looked at Vera, her eyes hardening, and then tipped the bottle up and took a swig as an answer. Vera arched an eyebrow and figured she’d join her, taking a sip of her own. Emma turned the bottle back up the right way and spluttered, 

“Oh, that’s awful!” She gasped, coughing in disgust. Vera stopped drinking also. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she knew she’d have to down more to get any effect. “Why do people drink this stuff?”“Not for the taste.” Vera agreed but drank on anyway. 

“I drank my father’s wine…” Emma murmured in disbelief, looking at Vera in shock. Vera grabbed a glass from the kitchen and began pouring the wine out. She looked at Emma and gave her a nod,

“You did.” She confirmed, downing the glass afterwards. Emma watched her, then a smile crept on her face and she laughed. Clearly, she was hitting an adrenaline high. _Perhaps this is the first time she’s ever rebelled._ Vera reckoned, recognising the shaky certainty she’d once felt herself. She’s only directly defied her parents once or twice and the feeling had been both terrifying and liberating. Emma got her own glass and raised it, 

“To disobeying.” She chimed. Vera didn’t know why Emma had to ruin a perfectly good moment with a cheesy toast, but reluctantly raised her own glass, grudgingly saying,

“To disobeying.” It didn’t take long before her urge for sunshine had subsided. The alcohol hit her system and the itch for drugs was replaced by a lightheaded, drunken daze. In a fleeting moment, while she was lying on the cream couch and Emma the pink, the importance of Emma's earlier words finally struck her. _‘When my dad’s bored he drinks.’_ She frowned at the ceiling then turned her head to look at Emma, who was silently studying her glass. Vera didn’t know what to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story please leave a kudos and/or comment to let me know!


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city of Bochardess has never been kind to Vera, but by some stroke of luck she has finally managed to get herself a friend in high places, and a job.
> 
> Vera has been assigned as Emma's bodyguard. Vera has never been a bodyguard before. She doesn't know what she's protecting Emma from, she doesn't know who Emma is and she doesn't know why she's so eager to help her. All she knows is the job pays well, and she doesn't have another option.
> 
> Then Emma is attacked. Vera, fellow bodyguard Tsuru and Emma embark on a search to figure out what is going on, but it soon becomes clear that they are facing forces far greater than they could have imagined.
> 
> Toeing the line between giving up and letting her rage loose, Vera finds her situation ever more perilous as the days go by.
> 
> Can Vera, Tsuru and Emma figure out the mysteries of Bochardess before everything is lost?

** Chapter 4 **

Vera got off the couch with more speed than she’d expected, stiffening her legs once she’d come to a standing. She looked pointedly at Emma, 

“We’re going out.” She announced, placing the glass in her hand on the coffee table. She paused, panicked, then placed a mat underneath the glass. 

“Where?” Emma drawled, rolling off the couch and onto the floor with all the grace of a hippo. She lay still for a moment, groaning. 

“Lightweight.” Vera muttered, looking at the shorter girl pathetically strewn over the floor like a puddle. Vera leant down and with a heave hauled Emma onto her feet, letting go as quickly as she’d grabbed on and taking a few paces back, wiping her hands on her trousers as if she’d just touched dirt. Emma swayed and placed her glass on the coffee table next to Vera’s. Brown Eyes glared at her, “Put a mat under it.” She scolded, folding her arms. Emma looked at her, then at the coffee table, and then picked the glass up and put it on the carpet. She turned to Vera with a taunting shrug,

“There.” She said triumphantly, “Now it’s on a massive mat.”

“Good.” Vera felt relief wash over her, her mind was fuzzy from the alcohol so she failed to recognise that carpet wasn’t actually an appropriate coaster. “Let’s go.” She slurred, marching towards the front door, she tried her best to walk in a straight line but her balance was all over the place. Emma followed closely behind. Brown Eyes fumbled with the keys and soon the two of them were outside in the cold night air. 

“The sky is crying!” Emma exclaimed as white snowflakes dusted the ground around them. 

“That’s rain you’re thinking of.” Vera corrected her, taking note of the light snow fall, it was nothing compared to the blizzard a day or so ago. “It won’t settle.” She concluded, walking towards the front gate. It had a key pad on it, luckily Vera remembered the code. It had been in her introduction booklet. At least, it had been on the first page of the document, the only part she’d bothered to scan over. 

“What are you doing?” Emma asked, looking over Vera’s shoulder. Brown Eyes cast her a cold look, hoping the girl would back up and give her some space,

“I’m coding the enter.” She explained, then pushed open the side gate and stumbled out onto the icy pavement. She paused when she realised Emma wasn’t following her and turned to look behind her. “Come on.” She mumbled, waving her arm to encourage the girl. Emma looked at her, green eyes worried, hands clasped tightly, then the girl’s eyes shot down to the threshold. 

“When you said we were going out, I didn’t think you meant _out_ out…”

“What did you think I meant?” Vera asked. When Emma didn’t respond she sneered and let out a sharp breath, making her way down the path, “Stay there if you want, wimp.” She hissed, and went to shove her hands into her pockets, but realised she’d left her jacket back in the house. Her arms fell uselessly at her side and she became suddenly aware of the chill, her breath steaming in the freezing air. When she was on sunshine everything was multiplied, her senses were sharp and ran wild with information, all be it incorrect information. Now, her ears delayed sounds to her brain, the brittle crack of leaves and branches overlapping each other strangely. Her vision blurred and swayed with each step, and it was as if all sense of temperature and smell was covered in a muffling blanket, only making the barest of effects on her. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” She heard someone, in a shaky voice, to her left mutter. Vera had been walking for a while now and had failed to notice that Emma had joined her, tottering silently along side her. 

“Hi, wimp.” Was all she said. Emma cast her a sheepish glance, 

“Hi.” She breathed a response. She seemed on edge, terrified, even, but Vera didn’t care. She wanted to get to the supermarket in west Bochardess, that had been why she’d had the thought to leave, but for a moment she couldn’t remember what exactly it was she had wanted. _Sunshine? I always want sunshine._ She thought, then, _No, I wouldn’t find any sunshine in a super market._ She paused, stopping in her tracks and tilting her head, _Or would I?_ She started off again, quickening her pace. She’d remembered what she’d wanted to get. _A jam jar._ “Hey!” Emma protested, “Not so fast!” There was a thud and a soft ‘oof’ noise from behind Vera. She stopped and turned to look behind her. Emma had fallen over. 

“Pathetic.” She said to herself, then continued on, not bothering to help the shorter girl. Emma scrambled to her feet and caught up, this time grabbing onto Vera’s left arm for support. Vera looked down at the girl, her skin crawled with the contact. It wasn’t skin on skin, she was wearing a long sleeved turtle neck after all, but the closeness was far more that Vera was accustomed to. She gave her arm a shake, “Off.” She hissed. Emma clung on.

“I don’t want to fall!” She protested, her voice a high pitched whine that pricked up the hairs on the back of Vera’s neck. 

“Get off!” Vera repeated, more forcibly pulling her arm around. Emma’s fingers dug into her. For someone who had just fallen over, she was recovering impeccably from Vera’s abrupt movements. Brown Eyes heaved a sign of defeat and gave up, walking on in silence. 

“Thanks.” Emma grinned up at her. Vera returned her look with disdain, then focussed on the road ahead of her with eyes narrowed. 

“Whatever.” She growled. Vera glanced back down at Emma, at the small golden cross hanging from around her neck. “You should tuck that below your shirt.” Vera suggested, “Bochardess isn’t too kind on Christians.” Emma looked up at her, 

“Why?” She asked. Vera shrugged,

“Some people don’t like it when other people hold different views.” 

“You say that like you’re not one of them.” The shorter girl murmured. Vera stiffened, then let out a breath, swallowing her temper. The girl had a point, she had accused religion of being for the insane. 

“Sorry about that.” She muttered grudgingly. Emma gave Vera’s arm a squeeze. 

“No problem.” 

By the time they reached the supermarket, both girls were shivering. “Why is it so cold?” Emma complained, her teeth chattering. Vera shrugged,

“It’s barely even chilly.” She huffed, though her face was flushed red from the winter night, and her lungs felt stung by the sharp air. Vera went to open the door of the supermarket, but there was no handle. “Strange.” She mumbled, peering around the entrance, trying to figure out how it operated. Emma took a step back and examined it from a far,

“I think it’s automatic.” She said. Vera glanced back at her, having been trying to get her fingers between the two doors to pry them open. 

“Right.” She murmured, stepping away from the doors and rubbing her numb hands together, “Of course.” She paused, standing in silence whilst waiting for the door to open. Nothing happened. 

“Is it broken?” Emma asked, taking a step closer and putting her face against the door to peer inside. None of the lights were on so Vera couldn’t see an assistant to help them get the door open. _None of the lights are on._ Vera repeated to herself. She froze, then let out a frustrated breath and groaned, putting her face in her hand,

“Emma,” Vera said, her voice resigned.

“Yeah?” 

“It’s closed.” Vera turned her brown eyes on the shorter girl, feeling humiliation tingle up her spine. She felt like a fool. Emma looked back at her, then the doors, then let out a laugh,

“That makes way more sense.” She admitted, glancing up at the sky, “Wow, late and snowing.” She breathed, “I’ve never been outside while it’s been like this.” She paused, glancing around herself, “Actually, I’ve never even been _here._ ” She added, spinning to take in her surroundings. Vera could see what was about to happen and took a few precautionary steps towards Emma. Mid spin her feet caught each other and she tumbled to the side, heading for another face plant in the pavement. 

“Careful, there.” Vera called, reaching out and underneath the girl’s shoulders, taking her weight in her arms. She was surprisingly heavy when her momentum was already pushing towards the ground, and Vera had to strain her legs to right the both of them. Emma was back on her feet, and Vera took a few more steps away. “We should head back.” Vera decided, her senses beginning to refocus again in the cold breeze. Emma cast her a cheeky look,

“No.” She said quickly, that look of rebellion returning to her eyes as she folded her arms and straightened her back. _I’ve gone and started her rebellious phase._ Vera realised with a start, _Why must I do these things?_

“I shouldn’t have brought you out here in the first place,” Vera argued, “It’s my fault, but we need to go back now. It’s late and-” 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Emma shrugged and then started off down the road. Vera went to say something more, to convince Emma just why Bochardess was not the same at night than it was at day, but her mouth had dried up. The alcohol was still in her system, and as much as it had numbed her senses, her thoughts were suddenly amplified. She took a sharp breath as images raced in front of her eyes. Cold nights out on the street alone, a warm drink between her fingers as a soothing voice talked to her, a young girl, too young, being taken in by people she trusted, people who she shouldn’t have trusted. She remembered desperation and desperate choices. Dresses, pink and purple, make up in glitter bags piled by a mirror. Sofas with holes in them, bright lights, loud voices. A shiver coursed through Vera and before she knew it she was sitting on the ground, her head in her hands, breathing heavily. A hand touched her arm suddenly, another one on her shoulder. Fingers crawled up her feet and legs and thighs, clawing at her skin. 

“Don’t touch me.” She murmured, panic rising in her throat like bile, and then a hand, a real hand, grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “I said don’t touch me!” She screamed, opening her brown eyes and thrashing out with her arms, shoving the person away from her. A man fell onto his back and looked at her in shock. 

“I was trying to help!” He hissed, his look of surprise being replaced with that of indignation. He rose to his feet, wiping his hands on his trousers, and continued on his way, “May the sun light your path.” He muttered sarcastically as he turned a corner. Vera looked after him, dumb struck. It occurred to her that the street had a few more people on it that it had before, most of them were too busy chatting each other up or paying for services to notice her. But the ones that did bore their stares into her, harshly judging her every move. Vera looked around nervously and got to her feet, brushing the grit off her arms and making a steady pace down the road. She returned a few glares, even daring to say ‘What?’ when she felt particularly annoyed. It took her a moment to realise that Emma was nowhere to be seen.

“ _Uurgoe._ ” She cursed to herself, “Where did she go.” Fear replaced her anger as worse case scenarios played out in her head. Bochardess was boring and dull in the day time, but once the sun went down, so, too, did the morals. Pleasure houses and parties sprung up around the city. Dealers lowered their prices and encouraged group usage, which usually didn’t wear off until well into the mornings. It was one way to pass the nights. 

Vera put herself in the shoes of Emma, who’d said she’d never been here before. The brightly lit house on the corner would be her first stop, given how flashy and intriguing it appeared. People crowded outside, crowing at each other in loud voices. Vera quickened her pace, her head spinning less and less by the second, and found herself looking down the entrance way. Her heart sunk as she read the name of the place. Faulty’s House. Vera was all too familiar with these kinds of establishments. She wasn’t sure when they’d left West Bochardess and entered the ‘cold district’, but she didn’t like it. It got its name from being on the most exposed side of Bochardess, no forest or hills to break the cold wind blowing in from the south, and so it was freezing in the winter, and brisk in the summer. The temperature had slowed the tourism and economic growth in the area, and soon the rest of Bochardess had given up on it and left it to the most loathsome and poor of the population to stew in. Wealthy people saw this depravity and desperation as an opportunity to have some, generally illegal, fun, and so began setting up establishments for profit and pleasure, praying on the most hopeless of Bochardians. 

Vera took a breath and shoved past the bodies of other guests, calming her mind as it panicked at the contact, and made her way inside Faulty’s house. Her brown eyes adjusted to the lights and squinted at the crowd of people. Smoke filled the air and music drummed through the walls and floorboards. The red walls were lined with posters of metal bands and old records, with the occasional white half sun symbol of _Uurism._ An old fashioned juke box sat sadly in the corner. _Emma would have tried to leave as soon as she entered._ Vera reckoned and turned to exit, not expecting to find the timid girl in this place. As soon as she did her eyes caught sight of Emma. 

She had been right, Emma had made a u-turn and gone to leave, but a tall man with spiked hair, half shaven, had intercepted her and had her trapped between the wall and him. Close to the door, but not close enough for Emma to wriggle free. The small girl was hidden by moving bodies and yelled words, but Vera’s eyes were latched onto her fearful face, she wouldn’t lose sight of her until she was safe. A feeling of anger swelled inside Vera and her panic at physical contact evaporated as she thrust her way through the mass of people and reached out to grab the mans shoulder. She yanked him away from Emma, pushing him backwards. “Problem?” She hissed, baring her teeth and clenching her fists. Emma put her hand on Vera’s arm,

“He was just being pleasant,” Emma assured her. The man looked alarmed, 

“I was just talking to her, that’s all.” He defended himself. 

“I just want to leave.” Emma added. Vera could feel the girl was tense, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of the man. Her anger was difficult to control normally, but something inside of her had changed with the consumption of alcohol and she couldn’t help but feel this heated fury. “Vera.” Emma repeated. The man’s faced changed in an instant, and Brown Eyes got a sinking feeling. It was the look of recognition. Vera wasn’t a typically Bochardian name, and in some places of Bochardess, it was well known. Vera wondered if he had recognised her name from her past activities, but then the man looked at Emma with re-ignited interest,

“Your name is Emma, then?” He asked. Vera furrowed her brow, this man had guessed Emma’s name from hers, so his recognition must mean something other than simply being someone who’d known of Vera’s past. Emma looked at him in confusion. Vera’s mind was alert with adrenaline, her breath came in quick gasps as dread seized her, _This is why I was hired._ It struck her. _People are actively looking for Emma. Keeping tabs on who’s involved with her. Why?_ Emma opened her mouth to respond to the man, but Vera interrupted her.

“No.” She said, “Her name is Gertrude.” Vera cursed herself for her pitiful improvisation, but the name had clearly stuck with her from before. She whipped around and this time it was her grabbing onto Emma’s arm. “We need to leave.” She hissed in a low voice, leaning down so Emma could hear her clearly. Emma didn’t need telling twice and soon the two had pushed their way out of the club and onto the street. Vera didn’t slow down, she kept walking as fast as she could back towards West Bochardess. She didn’t let go of Emma until they’d passed through the wealthy section of the city and were safely back in the forest. She released her hold, she’d been holding on too tight and worried she’d left red marks on Emma’s arm, but fear had been gripping her as strongly as she’d been gripping onto Emma. 

“Thank you.” Emma said once they’d been walking in silence for a few minutes, looking up at Vera, “He didn’t mean me harm, but he wasn’t leaving me alone, either.” 

“Oh, he meant you harm.” Vera growled pessimistically, folding her arms. The quiet whisper of the trees and crunch of shoes on ice and snow was so much more welcome than rowdy crowds and screeching music. The only light here was the moons soft glow, outlining the pavement and bouncing off the frozen surfaces. It highlighted their breath as it clouded in the air. The lights in the city were artificial and harsh and drained the skin of colour. The moonlight was gentle. Vera couldn’t help noticing how Emma looked under it. 

“How do you know he meant me harm?” Emma challenged her. Vera glanced down at her and then at the road ahead. The cold had numbed her legs and she was moving from muscle memory by this point. 

“He knew your name from knowing mine.” Vera explained, “His face was curious.”  
“Curious isn’t always bad.”

“It was curious in a bad way.” Vera affirmed. She sniffed, looking up through the branches at the sky, at the half moon gleaming down on them. She shook her head and returned her gaze to the pavement, “He wanted to know more and I don’t know why. It’s a problem for the morning, once my head’s stopped spinning.” 

“Your head’s still spinning?” Emma asked. Vera looked down at her with furrowed brows,

“Yes. I drank a lot of alcohol. It’s what happens.”  
“You must have drunk more than me then.” Emma deduced, “My head never started spinning.”  
“You fell over. Three times, I think.” Vera reminded her as they came up to the front gate. Emma shrugged,

“Do I strike you as the type who isn’t _always_ falling over anyway?” She shot back. Vera paused, her hand hovering over the key pad, then peered down at the shorter girl in thought. She said nothing. Emma smiled crookedly up at her, “Didn’t think so.” “You were never drunk.” Vera breathed as realisation swept over her. Emma’s smile spread bigger and she shook her head,

“Nope. Hated the taste, couldn’t manage more than a glass.” Emma said. Vera scoffed and entered the code, too distracted to hide the numbers she typed in. 

“You were at least a little tipsy.” She said, opening the gate and gesturing for Emma to go first. 

“Such a gentleman.” Emma remarked smartly, walking inside the grounds. Vera shook her head once more and followed her, turning to close the gate. “But yes, I suppose I was a little tipsy.” Vera paused before looking over her shoulder at Emma. There was silence between them again as they held each other's gaze. Vera let out a long breath, 

“Go find me a bug.” She instructed. Emma looked confused for a moment, then she clearly remembered Vera’s earlier words she’d said about Tsuru. _‘I’ll be damned if I’m not putting bugs under his pillow tonight.’_

“Be right back!” Emma chirped and rushed off into the darkness. Vera waited until Emma’s heavy footsteps faded into the night. 

“Thank you.” She murmured, then closed the gate, ensuring it was locked. She glanced out into the forest and for once the trees held a hint of eeriness. It shook her how suddenly the forest had turned from friendly to foreboding. Its shadows hid something from her, maybe even someone. She swore she saw a person, a figure, standing out in the darkness. But then the outline was gone, broken up as the branches which had formed it moved in the wind. Vera didn’t allow herself to relax, and stood still for a few moments, looking out into the night, not sure if it had been the alcohol playing tricks on her mind or if someone had really been standing out there. Her stomach flipped, and she wondered if her fear was getting the better of her, but then it occurred to her that she’d downed a lot of alcohol for the first time in her life and there was every possibility she was going to be sick. She left the gate and marched with purpose towards the cottage.

Vera finished off in the toilet and drank some water to clear the taste from her mouth, then waited in the sitting room for Emma to return. The girl clattered through the back door, her breaths coming in quick gasps, her face red from the cold, but her eyes alight with excitement. She held out her hand, in it was a glass, and in that glass was a worm. Vera looked at the worm dubiously and then at Emma. “I said a bug.” Emma’s face fell. Vera smiled slightly, “Kidding.” She said, “This will do just fine.” She took the glass from Emma’s hand, placing the other one she’d been holding in the sink and then, leaving her shoes neatly by the front door, snuck her way into Tsuru’s room. Emma tiptoed behind her. Vera gestured for Emma to wait by the door and then crept her way inside. The door had been closed, and it had taken her a few seconds to ease the handle around and slide into the darkened space. She made her way as silently as she could to what she thought was the bed. It felt strange to be in Tsuru’s room. The man had only moved in that morning and yet the room already had the smell of body spray, a smell Vera thought was a mixture arrogance and irritation. It was impressive how fast Tsuru worked. She reached out with her hand, gently placing it onto the pillow to see where it was, reached back, grabbed the worm, and deposited it. She turned around and swiftly exited the room, shutting the door behind her, grateful for the body spray free air. Emma was waiting outside, her face bright, her smile wide. Vera gave a nod. “I did it.” She confirmed, walking past Emma to the stairs. The girl scurried after her, snickering,

“I can’t wait until morning.” She whispered. Vera gave a nod as she ascended the steps.

“He certainly has it coming.” She murmured. She reached the hallway and turned to her room, walking inside and closing the door behind her and reaching for the chest of drawers containing her pyjamas. Someone knocked on her door. Vera looked at it in confusion and opened it to see Emma. She raised an eyebrow, “Yes?”

“Good night.” Emma said, then turned and went to her own room. Vera watched her in silence, her eyebrows furrowed. It took her a moment, but eventually, once Emma’s bedroom door was closed and the girl was out of sight, and earshot, Vera said,

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story please leave a kudos and/or comment to let me know!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city of Bochardess has never been kind to Vera, but by some stroke of luck she has finally managed to get herself a friend in high places, and a job.
> 
> Vera has been assigned as Emma's bodyguard. Vera has never been a bodyguard before. She doesn't know what she's protecting Emma from, she doesn't know who Emma is and she doesn't know why she's so eager to help her. All she knows is the job pays well, and she doesn't have another option.
> 
> Then Emma is attacked. Vera, fellow bodyguard Tsuru and Emma embark on a search to figure out what is going on, but it soon becomes clear that they are facing forces far greater than they could have imagined.
> 
> Toeing the line between giving up and letting her rage loose, Vera finds her situation ever more perilous as the days go by.
> 
> Can Vera, Tsuru and Emma figure out the mysteries of Bochardess before everything is lost?

** Chapter 5 **

Vera woke up with a screeching headache and frozen bones. Her duvet was thin and the chill had crept into her bed. She let out a long breath and studied the ceiling for a few moments, counting in her head. For once she had managed to awaken before her alarm, something she hadn’t managed for a few days straight now. It was a good sign, a morning ritual fu-filled. _Sleep is under my control._ She assured herself. But then her counting continued and continued. _It should have gone off by now._ She realised, _Did I forget to set it?_ Vera was a creature of habit, and she habitually set her alarm every night before bed. She doubted it was a routine a bit of alcohol could smudge. She turned her head to look at her bedside table and at her alarm clock. It read ‘5:57’. Her alarm went off at 7 o'clock, she usually woke up half a minute before that. Something was wrong. Vera pushed her senses beyond the yell of her headache and realised that, while her headache was certainly unpleasant, it wasn’t what had been screaming. 

“Vera! Tsuru!” Emma’s voice rang out loudly. Vera startled awake, chucking off her duvet. She knew she couldn’t stop to arrange it neatly over her bed, but she couldn’t help sparing a thought for the untidy state she was leaving it in. She slammed open her door and raced down the hallway to Emma’s room. Emma’s cries had been replaced with muffled yelps and whines and Vera’s heart beat was now louder than the struggle she could hear going on inside. 

“Tsuru wake up!” Vera screamed as she grabbed at Emma’s bedroom door handle. 

“Why the hell is there a worm on my pillow?” Tsuru bellowed up the stairs. 

“Emma’s in danger!” Vera explained as she thrust open the door and threw herself into Emma’s bedroom. In the moment she had before she knew she’d need to take action her mind assessed the situation in front of her. Two men, one with a rifle, one empty handed, stood wearing all black, their faces covered in masks. The man without the rifle had grabbed Emma, holding a piece of cloth over her mouth. Vera was familiar enough with the tactic to know what that cloth would do to Emma, “Hold your breath.” Vera said to Emma before she ran across the room to the man with the rifle. He was short but looked well muscled. Regardless, he was slow to raise his gun and Vera grabbed hold of either end of it. There was a brief moment where the two tussled for control over it. Then Vera twisted it around and snapped it out of the other’s grip. It wasn't hard considering the man was wearing cotton gloves. _Rookie mistake._ She thought, _Always wear leather. Better grip._ Vera didn’t have time to turn the rifle and aim it before another attack would come, so she pushed the rifle against the man’s chest, pushing him backwards. He stumbled a pace, his balance as poor as his grip, and Vera took her opportunity, striking the butt of the rifle across his face in a devastating blow. The man’s head turned to the right with a crack, and before he had a chance to recover Vera slammed the rifle upwards, hitting the man under his chin. His head snapped backwards and he fell to the floor with a thud. Vera swiftly turned the rifle on the other man, aiming down the sights with a steely calm. Her brown eyes burning furiously, her hands still. There was no sign of hesitation in her and from the fear in the other man’s eyes she knew he could tell. She wasn’t bluffing when she put her finger on the trigger. 

“Let her go.” Vera said coldly. Emma’s face was beginning to go red, she couldn’t hold her breath for much longer, she would have to make this quick. The man’s grip only tightened, 

“I’ll kill her.” He threatened. Emma’s eyes widened. Despite knowing the man was bluffing a flame of anger sparked in the pit of Vera’s belly.

“Aw, did I miss the punch line?” Tsuru asked sadly, looking at the unconscious man as he entered the room calmly. Vera spared him the barest of disapproving looks,

“Now is not the time for puns, Tsuru.” She growled, readjusting her rifle, keeping it trained on the stranger.

“Marcai?” The remaining man asked fearfully to his companion. The man on the floor, presumably Marcai, let out a grunt, trying to rise to his feet. Tsuru’s face darkened,

“Stay down.” He warned. Emma’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she ran out of oxygen, Vera knew now was the time to act, but Tsuru beat her to it. It was completely unexpected. Vera had reckoned herself the better of the two in combat, given her greater height, but she knew in an instant she had been wrong, as it only took an instant for Tsuru to rush forward and kick the man off of Emma. His foot reached as high as the man’s chest, fast, hard and precise. It sent him flying across the room and onto the window seat. The pillows let out a soft hiss as he landed, cushioning him. Emma tumbled to the floor, taking a gasp of air and leaning weekly against the end of her bed. Vera’s judgement must have been skewed from her headache as she let the rifle drop down and swiftly moved over to Emma, crouching by her to ensure she was okay, rather than keeping it focussed on the two men. She hadn’t taken notice of the open window by the window seat, where the two man presumably must have entered, until it was too late. Marcai had risen to his feet and fled out the gap, taking his chance with the fall, his friend close behind. Tsuru ran after them, making a grab for the man’s shirt, but his fingers missed by an inch. “Shit.” Tsuru hissed and then jumped out the window after them. _We’re two stories up._ Vera realised with a start, rushing over to the window and peering out. Tsuru had landed on a bush and seemed to be unharmed. Unfortunately, so were the two assailants, who were running across the field towards the edge of the grounds. Vera didn’t have the training to land a jump like that safely, so instead she rested her elbows on the window sill and took a long breath, stilling her body. She aimed down the sights of the rifle and lined them up, tensing her muscles in preparation and then shot. 

The sound rung out loudly in her ears and her headache rose like a spiteful Phoenix, pounding its wings behind her eyes. It took her a moment to realise she’d hit one of them, the one nearing the fence. He was limping now, holding his leg desperately as he reached the perimeter and attempted to scramble over the obstacle. The second man pushed him up and over the fence and then began to climb himself. Tsuru couldn’t get there in time, he was too far away. Vera had to hand it to him though, he was tearing across the grass, his legs taking long quick strides, his red dressing gown fluttering out behind him. He would be there is less than a second – but it would still be too late. Vera took another breath, reloaded the gun, braced herself for the kick, and shot again. The man tumbled off the fence and onto the ground. For a heart stopping moment, Vera wondered if she’d killed him. _I wouldn’t care._ She told herself. Yet, despite all she’d done in the past, her hands were still shaking. The man moved, sitting up to make a pitiful grab at the fence. Vera let out the breath she’d been holding. _He’s alive._ She thought, _Good. His information will be useful._ She slung the rifle over her shoulder and turned to leave the room and join Tsuru outside. 

“Vera…” Emma croaked out. Her voice sounded sore. Brown Eyes looked at her for a moment, leant against her bed, sat on the floor, helpless. She should comfort her, tell her everything was going to be okay. She looked shaken and terrified, her eyes wide and fearful.

“I’ll be right back.” Vera murmured, her stomach clenching, “Stay there.” Vera left the room, rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It felt ridiculous to run across the grass in her black vest top and shorts, but there was no time to change. Her bare feet thudded over the soft green grass, the rifle swinging on her back, the brisk morning air sliding past her bare skin. Soon she had caught up to Tsuru, who was busy securing the man’s hands in front of him with the belt from his dressing gown. Vera paused, putting her hands on her knees and taking in gasps of breath. She’d never run as fast as she had just then.

“Great work Vera.” Tsuru complimented her, sounding sincere. Vera raised her head from looking at the ground to shoot him a confused glance. Tsuru paused, tilted his head, then, “Oh, sorry, I had us confused with an alternate universe where you were actually useful.”

“I shot both of them!” Vera snapped defensively. The man, not Marcai, gave a slow nod.

“This I can verify…” He breathed painfully, his voice deep and rough. A red patch had spread around his lower abdomen like a blooming flower. Vera glanced at it, then to the man’s pale face. The eye holes in his mask showed his skin was white, and his eyes a brilliant blue. Tsuru finished securing the man’s hands and put his own on his hips. His pyjama top was ridiculously large, obscuring his figure from view, and his long pyjama trousers were the same. 

“You lost focus and gave them a chance to get away. Now, we only have one of them.” Tsuru spat back. 

“Lower your voice.” Vera pleaded, the world was spinning, her head was caving in on itself. She stood to her full height but the grass swayed around her. She squinted against the light. Tsuru let out a breath of disbelief,

“You’re hung over.” He muttered. His brown eyes were disappointed. Neither of them had been paying attention to the man, who had slipped something out of his pocket. 

“Actually,” The man said, popping whatever it was into his mouth, “You have neither of us.” 

Vera tried to reach forward to stop him, but her balance was all wrong now the adrenalin was running low. Tsuru lurched towards the man and grabbed his head, angling it towards him. He forced his mouth open and reached his hand inside, desperately trying to grab the pill the man had taken. Tsuru removed his hand and gave up, taking a step back. He rubbed his arm on his trousers in disgust. The man’s eyes were fearful, so Vera couldn’t help but respect him as he held his nerve, and remained silent. The silence didn’t last long, as soon the man was convulsing, bent over in fits of coughs. It lasted a painfully long time, it was like watching a fish out of water spasming from side to side, and then the silence returned. Vera and Tsuru stared down at him quietly. Tsuru folded his arms, 

“Good one liner to finish on.” He admitted, turning his gaze to Vera. Brown Eyes looked back at him,

“I guess.” She murmured. At least it hadn’t been her bullet that had killed him. 

“You’re pretty unaffected for someone who’s just seen someone die.” Tsuru commented, assessing Vera. Vera returned the scrutinising look in kind,

“Same to you.” 

“I’ve seen death before.” Tsuru shrugged. Vera glanced down at the man, then back to Tsuru. 

“And you think I haven’t?” She retorted, turning to go back towards the house, her steps slow. Tsuru regarded her silently, then followed. They walked in calm silence, but then Tsuru abruptly broke into a run,

“We forgot Emma!” He yelled in panic. Vera wasn’t sure she was ready to run yet, but she forced her body to do so anyway, knowing she’d pay for it later. 

“What do you mean?” She called after him in confusion. 

“They might not be the only ones they sent!” Tsuru explained as they approached the house. Vera overtook Tsuru in a second, her face hardened. She burst through the door and barrelled up the stairs. Tsuru caught up to Vera and they both looked into Emma’s bedroom, letting out a breath of relief in unison. Emma was sitting at the end of her bed, looking at the floor quietly. Vera’s eyes darted up and down the shorter girl, her usual flushed face looked paler, and her happy demeanour was gone. Vera urged herself to go and check she was okay, but something in her was vehement about doing the opposite. Vera straightened, her vision swaying, 

“I trust you to check she’s undamaged.” Vera muttered to Tsuru, trying to sound as detached as possible and trying to ignore the look of hurt that spread across Emma’s face. 

“I give the orders around here.” Tsuru responded. Vera furrowed her eyebrows,

“Since when?” 

“Since I didn’t get drunk on my first night.” Vera let out a breath of frustration, then,

“Oh great Tsuru, do you think you should check on Emma while I do a perimeter check with my rifle?” She rephrased her question. Tsuru gave an approving nod,

“Better.” He said, walking over to Emma, “And it’s not your rifle, it’s Marcai’s.” 

“Who's Marcai?" Vera heard Emma ask as she left the room and descended the staircase, her mood descending with her. She just caught Tsuru’s response,

“That’s what we’re gonna have to figure out.” 

Vera grabbed her puffer jacket and pulled it on, sliding the strap of the rifle over her shoulder and holding the gun steadily at her side. She slipped on her shoes and headed outside, making her way around the grounds. She began at the front gate, checking it was locked. She looked at the record of the keypad and saw someone had entered the code early that morning. 

“Damn.” She muttered, resetting the code. Brown Eyes gave the side gate a tug. It remained in place, as did the main gate, and so Vera began walking around the perimeter of the grounds, alongside the tall fence that encompassed the area. She walked past the sports centre, its windows boasting a large swimming pool inside, and then she walked past the running track, and then the squash courts. _This place is too much._ She couldn’t help thinking, casting the trampoline a disdainful look. It was protected by an alcove so that no leaves fell onto it. _A simple cover would have done the trick._ She paused at the spot the assailants had tried to escape, and one had successfully done so. Not-Marcai’s body was still lying there, foamed mouth hung open. His skin was even paler now. Vera bent down beside him. First, she took a moment of silence to bow her head, eyes shut, in respect of the man’s life. Then she examined his clothes. They were plain and gave no indication of where he came from, and Vera would have given up if she hadn’t of smelled a strong scent of smoke on him. She recognised it from the previous night, but her mind was unclear on the details. Vera got up and completed her check of the perimeter, deciding to clarify where they had been the night before with Emma. She returned to the house, bare legs cold from the morning air, and went inside, letting out a breath of relief as heat seeped back into her limbs. Tsuru had been awkwardly trying to console Emma in the sitting room, offering her warm drinks and food, but when he saw Vera he got up and began walking towards her. Vera ignored him and took off her jacket and hung it up, removed her shoes and put them on the shoe rack, and then headed upstairs to change into her day clothes. 

“Up bup bup.” Tsuru stopped her, holding out his hand expectantly. Vera glanced at his hand and then at him,

“I’m not holding your hand.” She said flatly. Tsuru gave her an unimpressed look,

“The gun.” He clarified. Vera gripped the rifle more tightly. 

“I can take care of it.” She insisted. Tsuru tilted his head, 

“It’s evidence, I need to examine it.” He argued. Vera relented and pulled the rifle strap over her head, handing the gun to him. “I take it the perimeter is clear.” Tsuru called after her as she ascended the stairs,

“Unlike your pores.” Vera responded, smiling to herself at the taunt. It felt good to give Tsuru a taste of his own medicine. She heard the man gasp in what sounded like genuine hurt,

“They’re not, are they?” He muttered to himself, glancing in the hallway mirror. Vera entered her room and changed, folding her night clothes and depositing them in the washing machine in the corner of the room, and then switching it on. She headed back towards the sitting room and stood, arms crossed, in the entrance, leaning against the door frame. Emma was curled up on the pink couch, wrapped in a blanket and sipping tea. Her dark brown hair was unbrushed and messy from her night’s sleep, and probably from the attack as well. Tsuru was spread out on the cream coloured couch, turning the rifle over in his hands, the ammunition had been emptied onto the coffee table. “Watch Emma.” Tsuru instructed, depositing the rifle onto the coffee table and getting up and walking towards Vera, “I’m going to give _our friend_ a call and see what he can do about the body.” He murmured quietly. Apparently, not quietly enough,

“Body?” Emma squeaked in surprise. Tsuru and Vera cast her a short look, then returned to their conversation. 

“I’ll call Gortald.” Vera hissed, “ _You_ watch Emma.” 

“You can be quiet temperamental on the phone,” Tsuru reminded her, “Besides, I’m not good around...” Tsuru looked at Emma and gestured in her general direction in distaste, “…this.”

“You just gestured at all of me.” Emma scowled. Vera furrowed her brow at Tsuru,

“And you think I am?” 

“Better than me.” Tsuru said. 

“So you admit you’re not perfect.” Vera retorted, tilting her head. Tsuru took the bait,

“I never said that.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll do great dealing with her.” Vera snapped.

“I’m right here.” Emma grumbled in annoyance. Once again Vera and Tsuru cast her a short look, and then returned to their conversation. 

“I’m making the call, and the call is that I’m going to make the call.” Tsuru hissed. 

“Fine.”

“Good.” Tsuru stalked out of the sitting room, presumably to get his phone, and Vera made her way over to the cream couch, her fists clenched. She sat down and looked at Emma, who looked at her. The two seemed to be making of habit of keeping silent around each other. 

“How are you feeling.” Vera asked at last, arms resting on her knees.

“Tsuru already checked me over, I’m fine. Just a sore throat.” Emma shrugged and took a sip of her tea. 

“Did he give you anything for that?” Vera asked. Emma lifted her mug of tea, gesturing at it,

“He told me to ‘take a sip babe’.” She explained. Vera gave her head a shake, 

“I suppose it will do for now.” She paused, then, “How are you doing…” Vera grasped for the word, she settled for a gesture to her own head, “…up here?” Emma cast a cautious look at her as if no one had asked her that before.

“What do you mean?” She murmured quietly as if she were walking on thin ice that would crumble beneath her feet any second. Vera was taken a back, she paused, collecting her thoughts, 

“Do you feel sad? Worried? Scared?”

“Yes.” Was all Emma said, taking another sip. Sympathy pulled at Vera.  
“I suppose you’ve never experienced anything like this, have you?” Brown Eyes asked. Emma shook her head. More silence formed, stretching like a rubber band that refused to snap. Then,

“Did you kill him?” Emma asked. Her hands clasped the mug tightly, her green eyes fastened Vera with a harsh stare. Discomfort trailed up Vera’s spine. “I heard the gun shots.” 

“No, I didn’t kill anyone.” Vera answered. _This time._ “I shot him in his lower stomach, it was a pill he took himself that did it.” Emma tilted her head in thought,

“He was willing to kill himself?” She breathed, “Why?” Vera stilled. That was a good question. She clasped her hands in front of her face and took a moment to think. Emma glanced at her, “What?” She asked. 

“Shh.” Vera hushed her, her brown eyes darting back and forth. _The man smells of smoke. He was willing to die to keep information from us, to die for his cause. He was putting a cloth over Emma’s mouth, not a knife to her throat._ Vera stood up abruptly and exited the room, hurrying into the hall way and up the stairs. 

“Vera?” Emma called after her but didn’t follow. Vera went into Emma’s bedroom and glanced around for the cloth the man had been pressing to Emma’s mouth. She spotted it amongst some pillows strewn on the floor. She grabbed it, taking a moment to return the pillows to their rightful place, then she gave the cloth the quickest of sniffs and pulled back. She hadn’t needed to get close before the pungent smell encompassed her senses. _Desfluctate._ She guessed. She clenched the cloth in her hand and went downstairs, returning to the sitting room. 

“You had one job.” Tsuru scowled at her as she entered. He was leant against the archway leading into the kitchen, near Emma. “Watch her.”

“I was gone a few seconds.” She protested, moving to the cream couch and sitting down. The rifle was placed on the coffee table, the ammunition near by. Vera placed the cloth alongside it. 

“That’s all it takes.” Tsuru cast Emma a glance, who looked back in concern. “No luck on the body front.” Tsuru said, turning back to Vera, “We’ll have to dispose of it ourselves or leave it there.” Brown Eyes tilted her head in confusion,

“That’s the first time Gortald hasn’t been able to do something.” Vera murmured in worry. 

“Who’s Gortald?” Emma asked. Tsuru waved his hand dismissively at her,

“You never heard that name.” He ordered, then to Vera, “Worse. He didn’t even answer.” Vera froze. _Something’s wrong._ Tsuru and Vera looked at each other with narrowed eyes, they both knew this didn’t bode well. 

“We’ll leave the body until he gets in touch.” Vera decided, then gestured to the cloth on the table, “If Gortald can’t help us, we need to figure out what just happened ourselves. That cloth?” Vera pointed at it now, “It’s doused in Desfluctate.” Emma seemed flustered,

“Des-what now?” She asked. 

“It’s an inhalant anaesthetic.” Tsuru explained. Emma looked just as confused, “It puts you to sleep if you breathe it in.” He then raised an eyebrow at Vera, “How can you be sure?”

“It reeks of it.” Vera said. Tsuru looked at her for a moment but thankfully didn’t ask her how she knew what desfluctate smelt like, though she could see the cogs turning in his brain. “I don’t think these people want to hurt Emma at all.”

“Maybe they just wanted to incapacitate her so they could take her somewhere and kill her there instead. Send a message.” Tsuru theorised. Emma’s face paled.

“Maybe chill on the murder talk?” Vera suggested. Emma gave a nod of agreement, “And I don’t think they have any intention of harming her.” Brown Eyes reiterated. Tsuru looked unconvinced.

“You know this because?” 

“Desfluctate is one of the gentlest of all the inhalant anaesthetics.” She explained, “Unlike, say, chloroform, it has far less chance of causing a fatality if it is used in too high a concentration, and causes less damage to the liver than other options such as ether.” Vera paused, “Tsuru, they went out of their way to avoid harming Emma. I don’t think this is attempted murder. I think this is attempted kidnapping.” 

“They want Emma as a hostage.” Tsuru murmured, clenching his fist and putting it in front of his mouth in thought. 

“I think that’s better than murder.” Emma trailed off, looking on the bright side, but fright was clearly gripping her.

“I’m not going to let anyone get you.” Vera said, suddenly. Tsuru glanced at her in surprise. Vera stumbled over her words, “ _We’re_ not going to let that happen.” She corrected herself. Emma seemed to relax at that.

“So how are we going to find them?” She asked. Tsuru and Vera looked at her silently, then at each other, 

“We’re not.” Tsuru said. “It’s good to know who we’re facing off against, and why, but we don’t have the man power to go to them. We need to hunker down and wait for them to come to us, or for our friend to reappear.” Tsuru took a moment to consider the girl, “No one leaves this cottage.” He ordered. Emma looked unconvinced, 

“They’ll find a way to get me. They’ll wait, and when you two lose your focus, or when they get enough men to storm the castle, they’ll make a grab for me again.” She put her tea down and folded her arms defiantly, “I’m not going to wait for that to happen like some scared puppy. It will be safer to go out there and face them” Emma’s voice was uncertain as if her very request of leaving the cottage was a crime. Tsuru smiled condescendingly at her,

“We’re just three people, and only one of us is properly trained for this kind of situation. I don’t know what you think it is we can do, but it’s not much.” Vera opened her mouth to say something, but Tsuru wasn’t finished, “Me and Vera,” _Vera and I._ Brown Eyes mentally corrected him. “have a friend who can sort this out. So, as I said, we’re going to hunker down, prepare ourselves and collect intel until he resurfaces and deals with it for us.” Vera took her chance to speak,

“She has a point.” She argued. Emma cast her an approving look. “We may not be able to take whoever these people are on our own, but the intel we can gather from this cottage is far too limited. When Gortald does resurface, I’m sure he’ll appreciate all the extra information he can get, and for that, we need to get out there and investigate.” Tsuru stood silently, thinking to himself. 

“We have no leads.” He argued. Vera narrowed her eyes,

“Not true. That body out there smells of smoke, and I distinctly remember visiting a place that smelled of smoke last night.” Tsuru’s eyes narrowed.

“You left the cottage?” He asked darkly. Vera stilled, then, swallowing, answered him. 

“Yes.” 

“What a genius.” Tsuru hissed, “First day and you’ve already managed to do permanent damage.” Vera looked at the ground, Tsuru had a point, but Vera had been so desperate for relief she hadn’t thought about the consequences. 

“Yesterday was yesterday, at least we now have a lead. That man’s body smells of smoke, and a place we visited last night smelled of smoke, also.” 

“Coincidence.” He dismissed, “lots of places smell of smoke.”

“No, not a coincidence. I checked the front gate’s keypad. Someone entered the code correctly this morning, that’s how they got onto the grounds in the first place. They knew the code, and the only way they could know it is if they’d seen one of us enter it.” Vera’s mind was working away now, “This cottage is in the middle of nowhere, it can’t be by chance that they found it at random and someone guessed the code. Someone must have followed me and Emma back here, and saw the code I entered.” 

“I’m sure you and Emma went all over Bochardess last night. Bochardess is a large city, the person who followed you could have come from anywhere.” Tsuru argued, “We can’t very well search the whole city.” But even he seemed more convinced than dubious. 

“He smelled of smoke, Tsuru. It’s a decent lead.” Vera finished. Tsuru smirked patronisingly at her,

“It would be if you hadn’t been so drunk out of your mind that you can’t even remember where this place was.” He pointed out, “Not to mention that we wouldn’t even be in this situation if you hadn’t compromised our location by galavanting drunkenly throughout the streets in the first place.” Vera’s posture gave out slightly. She felt silly for her actions the previous night, but her thirst for sunshine had been particularly bad and she’d been desperate for a way to quench it. “You can’t remember where the place was so there is no lead. It’s that simple.” 

“Emma was there, too.” Vera said in a low voice. Tsuru startled, he clearly hadn’t even thought about Emma in all this. Emma, herself, looked shocked, but then determination filled her eyes. 

“I remember.” She confirmed, “It was Faulty’s house.” Vera gave a swift nod of her head,

“There, we have a lead. Let’s go there and talk to some people and figure out who is trying to kidnap Emma.” Tsuru stared at Vera silently, then turned to Emma, who was making a pleading face.

“Alright.” Tsuru relented at last, “But only because I’m going to go stir crazy otherwise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story please leave a kudos and/or comment to let me know!


	7. Chapter 6

** Chapter 6 **

Tsuru and Vera stood in the hallway of Blue Jay Cottage. Tsuru was leant against one of the walls, arms crossed. Vera was standing by the wooden coat rack, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. She had put on her beanie, her short blonde hair poking out from under it, and had grabbed her black puffer jacket and phone. Tsuru had changed out of his ridiculous red dressing gown into a beige jumped and black and white scarf. His sunglasses had regrettably found their way back onto his annoying face, and his outfit clashed with his strange lime green sneakers.

“You dress like a teenage boy.” Vera commented, glancing him up and down. 

“Maybe that’s what I was going for.” He retorted smartly, giving his sleek black hair a flick to the right. Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath. Tsuru grabbed a large brown coat off the rack, swirling it around and onto his shoulders, and then opened the front door. 

“Wait!” Emma cried from the top of the stair case. Vera and Tsuru looked up at her, wrapped in a pink coat that pinched in at the waist and black coloured tights with a small black skater skirt to match. Tsuru looked confused as Emma rapidly descended the stairs, her dark hair falling luxuriously over her shoulders.

“You’re not coming with us.” He said simply, his hand resting on the for handle. Emma looked at him with narrowed green eyes and put her hands on her hips, 

“Why not?” She asked. Tsuru scoffed, shutting the door.

“Call me crazy, but when going to investigate people who want to kidnap someone, you generally don’t take the person they want to kidnap with you.” 

“You’d rather me stay here on my own, without protection?” Emma retorted. Tsuru shook his head,

“Of course not, Vera is staying with you.” He explained, gesturing to her. Brown Eyes looked dubiously down at his hand, pointing at her, then at him. Tsuru paused, his hand dropping back to his side, “Aren’t you?”

“Why do you think I’m wearing a coat?” Vera said flatly. Tsuru shrugged,

“People without souls chill more easily?” He joked. Vera gave him an unimpressed look, folding her arms. “Just watch her while I go investigate.” He waved one hand dismissively, the other reaching for the door. 

“No.” Vera may have made her mistakes, but this was her job, too. “You may have more experience, but you’re still just one man. I’m coming with you. I know the cold district, which is _where we’re headed._ ” She jabbed a finger in Tsuru’s torso, who uncharacteristically flinched backwards, his brown eyes momentarily wary, “You don’t.” 

“She’s not coming, that’s final.” Tsuru’s voice was low but forceful. Vera uncrossed her arms and flared her nostrils in frustration, 

“You know what?” She said, holding her arms out in anger, “I don’t know why I’m the one who you’re arguing with. This isn’t up to me, it’s up to her.” She said, gesturing at Emma. The girl looked like a fox that had been dropped in front of a thousand hounds, sharp teeth gnashing. Vera and Tsuru both looked at Emma and waited. Emma stalled, opening then closing her mouth, clasping her hands in front of herself nervously.

“It’s my choice?” Emma asked. Vera nodded. Tsuru didn’t look as keen. Emma seemed flustered, and Vera wondered for a brief moment if anyone had ever asked Emma for her opinion. Emma looked at the ground, her dark hair falling in her face, then looked back up and gave a decisive nod, “I think I should get to go.” She said. Tsuru let out a groan and shook his head, eyes turned to the ceiling, “It’s me they want to kidnap, it’s only fair I help find out why.” 

“I’m sure that knowledge will soothe you while you’re being held hostage in a cell.” Tsuru spat. 

“More than ignorance in the warmth of this cottage.” She shot back. Tsuru looked at her in silence, hand son his hips, and Vera waited, holding her breath. 

“Fine.” Tsuru relented, dropping his hands to his side in resignation, “But for God’s sake can you pick a more subtle coat?” 

“You’re one to talk.” Emma said back smartly, looking Tsuru's outfit up and down with scathing green eyes. _Nice one._ Vera couldn't help thinking. Emma walked past them and opened the door. The girl stepped outside with confidence but also a fair amount of urgency as if Tsuru might change his mind. Tsuru self consciously removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket. He glared at Vera's smug face as he walked outside,

“You dress like a goth, stop giving me that look.” He hissed. Vera held back a laugh as she followed after him, shutting and locking the door behind her.

“Whatever you say.” She murmured. _I just like the colour black. I wouldn’t call myself ‘goth’._

There wasn’t room on Tsuru’s motorcycle for the three of them to fit comfortably, not that Tsuru would let them touch it anyway, so they had to walk themselves to Faulty’s house. John must have owned at least one car, possibly more, but Vera didn’t know where he kept them and was sure the man wouldn’t be pleased if they were used.

“Jesus, you did this in the freezing cold of night, drunk?” Tsuru hissed, turning up his collar against the cold, his breath clouding in the winter air like smoke from a steam train. 

“Can you drop it.” Vera snapped. Tsuru shrugged,

“Just saying.” 

It took them a lot longer than Vera remembered to reach the cold district. There was no mistaking when they arrived there, though. No one could avoid noticing the sudden drop in temperature. The winds picked up dramatically, forcefully flying between the blocks of grey buildings. Vera had never been more thankful for having short hair, as Emma was experiencing great difficulty keeping her’s under control. 

“Need a hair band?” Tsuru asked. Emma looked back at him hopefully, 

“Yes please.” She said before her face was buffeted by her black locks. 

“Well, if you go to the shops you can buy your own." Tsuru smirked then fished a hair band out of his coat pocket and waved it teasingly.

“How come you have hair bands?” Vera asked looking at his short and sleek hair dubiously. Tsuru wriggled his eyebrows,

“Ladies give them to me.” Vera couldn’t help rolling her eyes. 

“Why would a lady give you a hair band?” Emma muttered to herself in confusion. 

By the time they got to Faulty’s house Emma’s hair was wild and the shorter girl seemed all too pleased to be out of the wind. Vera herself was feeling the chill and let out an internal sigh of relief once she entered the heated building. The smell of smoke lingered from the previous night and some of the posters had been ripped down or had stains in the corners. The floor was littered with plastic cups and cigarettes and the sofa’s had even more holes in them than before.

“Try to blend in.” Vera instructed Tsuru and Emma quietly. Most of the crowd had disappeared since the previous evening but there was still a decent amount of men and women milling about, their faces blank and confused. One man stumbled past and faltered in his steps. He flopped onto the ground, giving up on walking. Another man, presumably his friend, laughed and took out his phone, snapping a photo of the scene. He went to look at the photo he’d taken but dropped his phone and in his attempt to pick it up accidentally stepped on it, cracking the screen. He broke down into tears and fell to his knees. Tsuru cast Vera and Emma a scornful look, 

“Don’t worry, you’ll fit right in.” He teased. Vera cuffed him over the head. 

“Can I help you?” A man, tall with dark, greased back hair and a golden tooth, asked them. His smile was crooked and his nose broken, and it took Vera less than a second to recognise him. 

“Ryan Faulty.” She growled. He looked taken aback and examined Vera cautiously. 

“Do I know you?” He asked, then shot her a cheeky grin, “Did we spend a night in the Julton?” Vera’s face flushed with indignation and her fists clenched. She became painfully aware of Tsuru and Emma’s eyes boring into her.

“No.” Brown Eyes said, “You must have me confused with someone else.” Ryan paused and then, not skipping a beat, took a card with a phone number out of his jacket. He leant towards Vera and put it into her pocket, smiling at her.

“Forgive the mistake. Allow me to make it up to you. Dinner, on me?” He said.

“How generous” Vera responded dryly but her whole body felt frozen by his touch. Her stomach flipped and she had to mentally stop herself from being sick. Ryan gave a shrug and leant away, winking at Tsuru,

“These sluts all look the same, what’s a guy to do?” He joked. Tsuru laughed and Vera scowled down at her fellow bodyguard.

“I know, right?” Tsuru said, raising a hand for a high five. Vera felt even sicker. Ryan looked pleased with himself and went to high five Tsuru. Brown Eyes didn’t notice what was going on for a second. The action had been so swift yet subtle so that the people around missed it. Quick and precise like surgery. Tsuru had grasped Ryan’s hand, twisting it painfully, and leant in close to him, “Given the size of your right arm to your left, I’d say you’re right handed.” Tsuru hissed, an edge of mockery in his voice, “So if you want to be able to write again,” Tsuru raised his eyebrows suggestively, “or, _anything else,_ again. I’d suggest you give us a tour of this place.” Tsuru’s hand had a vice grip on Ryan’s, and Vera was certain she could hear audible pops. 

“What do you need a tour for?” Ryan managed. His voice high pitched and pained. Tsuru furrowed his brow, thinking deeply. He glanced around the place. At the people stumbling and blabbering mindlessly. The dazed look in their eyes, the clumsy edge to their steps, the careless element in their grins. They moved like puppets with tangled strings. Vera saw Tsuru reach the inevitable conclusion. 

“We want to see the drugs you have here.” He answered cooly, “Just business.” Vera looked between Ryan and Tsuru. It was a safe assumption that there was a back room packed with drugs and other pleasurable substances here, but Tsuru’s response was still a gamble. If he was incorrect they’d lose the option of an easy investigation, an easy excuse to poke about the place for information. To Vera’s relief, Ryan gave a curt nod of recognition, squirming in pain,

“Sure.” He gasped fearfully as Tsuru let go of his hand. Ryan cradled it in his other. He looked like a deer set free from a snare. "After me." He muttered. Vera had never known the feeling of revenge until that moment. She’d craved it, certainly, attempted it, definitely, but had never succeeded in exacting it. Ryan was not someone she knew closely, nor was he the main reason her life had gone the way it had, but he represented a certain kind of person who treated people like objects. Like steps on a ladder to be trodden on in pursuit of reaching the peak. It tasted as sweet as honey bread to see his pride, and hand, injured. 

They followed after Ryan in silence as he led them through the building. Their footsteps crunched over broken glass and paper as they passed through a cramped door way. Vera took the opportunity to lean down towards Tsuru.

“Thank you.” She murmured before leaning away again, as if it had never happened. Tsuru glanced up at her, 

“The Julton?”

“Cheap motel.” Vera explained. Once again Vera was thankful that Tsuru didn’t ask her how she knew this. He just gave a small, knowing nod and continued on. Ryan paused once they reached a wall at the very back, glancing over his shoulder. They were in a small corridor with bare walls with one, flickering, lightbulb. There were steps to their right and a locked door leading outside to their left. The back wall was the only wall with a covering, but it looked ready to fall off and smelt just as much of smoke as the rest of the place.

“I didn’t have any buyers scheduled for today.” Ryan muttered, “Next time send word before near breaking my hand.” He hissed, his confidence returning. Tsuru took a step towards him,

“Pardon?” He asked, tilting his head in fake interest. Ryan held his tongue and pushed against the wall. A section of it opened. 

“It’s like a door.” Emma breathed in surprise. Vera sucking in a tired breath and looked down at her. 

“Because it _is_ a door.” But, to be fair, Vera would have missed the door completely if it hadn’t been revealed to her. Tsuru went through first and Vera and Emma followed after him. Emma hovered close at Vera’s side, glancing around nervously. Vera gave her a light tap on her shoulder. She nearly jumped. “Calm.” Vera said soothingly, holding out her hand flat in a soothing motion. Emma nodded and took in a breath, her look of timidity being replaced with determination. Vera dropped her hands back to her sides. 

The room was large and grey. No effort had been made in decorating it - this space was purely for function. Vera felt like she might be high again as she looked around at the organisation. Grey cases sat neatly on shelves one after another, each labelled in a language she didn’t understand. Papers were neatly piled on desks next to perfectly parallel pens and pencils. A shiver ran up her spine and she let out a quiet gasp. The order and plainness of the room and colour scheme almost over whelming her. Emma cast her a questioning look. “Magnificent simplicity and order.” Vera breathed in answer. Ryan looked confused, but gave a duck of his head,

“Ta.” He said. The shortened version of thanks ruined it, and Vera felt all her glee wash away. Her face settled into a frown which she directed at the golden toothed man. 

After a few seconds of taking in her surroundings, Vera noticed, in the corner, that a shelf was obscuring a man. He was lying on the floor, still. He looked similar to the man who'd escaped them earlier. _Marcai._ Tsuru noticed him at the same time Vera did and gave her a subtle nod.

“You can leave us now.” Vera said suddenly, her voice blissfully clear in the cement room. Ryan looked at her in amusement, 

“I’m not leaving you here alone.” He scoffed. Vera narrowed her eyes, straightening to her full height and taking a step towards him.

“This purchase is far above your pay grade, Ryan.” She hissed, using her height to look down at him, “I’m talking Mr Hiller level.” Ryan’s face fell and his eyes widened.Vera saw the precise moment Ryan realised how thin the ice he was standing on was. Or just how thin Vera was making him believe it to be. Mr Hiller was an incredibly wealthy, and powerful, man. His reputation as a successful business man was outdone only by his known adoration of _Uurism_ and affinity for violent persuasion. 

“I can’t, though.” He protested, “The goods…” He gestured at the cases. Vera shrugged, 

“It’s not my fault your storage room doesn’t have good security. That’s bad planning on your part.” A thrill of satisfaction coursed through Vera at the fear she was instilling in Ryan. “There is one entrance, if you are really concerned you can wait outside until we’re finished.” Ryan looked unsure but, with Vera towering above him, it didn’t take long before he gave a fearful nod. 

“I’ll be outside…” He relented meekly, lowering his head and scampering out of the room.

“Good boy.” She muttered, watching him as he closed the door. Tsuru, Vera and Emma stood in silence for a moment. Emma smiled and punched Vera’s left arm, who recoiled in shock.

“Nice work!” Emma said, beaming up at her, “You were so intimidating!” Brown Eyes looked down at the shorter girl, dumbstruck.

“Whatever.” Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath, but a feeling of lightness had wriggled its way stubbornly into her chest. It sat there and whispered gleefully up to her. _Isn’t she cute! Isn’t she cute!_ Vera ignored it. Tsuru gave a curt nod,

"You managed not to mess something up. I think I have a dog treat somewhere." Vera glared at him, then turned her attention to the corner of the room.

“Shall we?” She asked. Tsuru nodded again, "Emma, stay back." Vera instructed, then she and Tsuru approached the man lying down on the floor. They walked around the metal shelf so that they had a clear line of sight. Vera noticed the bandages around his leg. There was a red patch where she'd shot him. Tsuru tutted,

“Oh, Marcai.” He sighed, recognising the man who'd tried to kidnap Emma the day before, “Get a _hole_ -d of yourself.” Vera took in a long breath, raising her eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to stay strong. It was like having a splinter in her finger she couldn't remove, a splinter that kept twisting and digging into her flesh, reminding her it was there. Like a parasite, even, slowly draining her of her will to live.

“Not now, Tsuru.” Vera begged, squeezing her eyes shut against the awful jokes. 

“No no, wait, I know puns are annoying, _bu-llet_ me finish.” He continued. Vera found his excited voice comparable to that of a squirrel being skinned alive. She cuffed him over the head once more, losing her temper. Tsuru hissed and placed a hand daintily to the back of his head. "Can you stop doing that!" He protested. Vera fixed him with a warning look. Roused by the noise Marcai opened his eyes. His gaze locked on to the two of them and he panicked, attempting to get to his feet. Tsuru rushed forward and pinned him down. “Woah there buddy, calm down.” He soothed, “We just wanna talk.” Marcai’s hand went into his pocket, grabbed something, and then nearly reached his mouth. Vera knew it was coming and reached forward, gripping his wrist tightly.

“No.” Was all she said, pulling the pill out of Marcai’s hand and holding it in her own. She crushed it between her fingers. Marcai’s brown eyes followed the dust of the tablet as it fell to the floor. His only method of killing himself gone. Vera grabbed one of the chairs stationed at the metal desk and put it in the middle of the room. Tsuru dragged Marcai onto it. 

“You can’t torture him.” Emma protested, suddenly. Tsuru let out a groan,

“No meat, no puns, no torture. You are killing me here!” 

“I’d rather kill your fun than let you kill him.” Emma sniped, hands on her hips. Vera was grateful to Emma. Vera had done many bad things in her life, and if she needed too could do more. But when it came down to it something inside of her was reluctant. Marcai, understandably, seemed even more relieved than Vera and let out a breath. “Why did you try to kidnap me?” Emma asked. Tsuru and Vera blinked at her surprise. Neither had expected her to lead the questioning. 

“I thought we were doing the interrogating?” Tsuru whispered to Vera, who just shrugged. Marcai laughed and then spoke in a language Vera wasn’t familiar with. Vera and Tsuru tensed. If Marcai couldn’t speak _Boch,_ the local language, it would be a problem. Emma didn’t falter, and in what sounded to Vera like the most heavily Bochardian accent in existence, Emma responded in whatever language it was Marcai had spoken. 

“What is he saying?” Vera asked Emma once the girl was finished talking. Emma was standing over Marcai, looking at him thoughtfully. She didn’t seem to register Vera’s question. Tsuru and Vera hung back, watching the scene unfold. 

“I don’t speak _Boch._ ” Marcai drawled out in what Vera thought was meant to be a Spanish accent. Emma looked at Vera, 

“He’s speaking Spanish, but I don’t know enough to ask him what we need.” She explained. She paused, scheming.“Vera, be ready.” She said. Brown Eyes had no clue what Emma meant by that, but before she could ask Emma had begun rapidly talking to Marcai in Spanish. Marcai would respond every sentence with either what Vera reckoned was ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Emma was quick firing questions at him. _She’s bombarding him._ Vera realised. Every question Emma would pause for a fraction of a second, and then continue onto the next one. Vera waited for just the right moment and then, when Emma was half way between one question and the next, and Marcai was entirely flustered, she cut in. Speaking in _Boch._

“Why are you so stupid?” Vera cut in loudly, taking an abrupt step forwards and leaning down towards Marcai. Marcai startled and glared up at her. 

“I’m not stupid!” He snapped back indignantly. In perfect _Boch._ Vera crossed her arms and leant back triumphantly. Clearly, Marcai could speak _Boch._ Emma looked down at Marcai. 

“Your Spanish accent is as bad as mine. Now, can we talk like grown ups?” Her condescending tone potent. “Why did you try to kidnap me?” She asked. Marcai shrugged. Tsuru let out a huff,

“This is why we need torture.” He protested, but Emma just held out a hand to silence him. Something in Emma’s demeanour shifted, her expression changed. Brown Eyes felt as if she'd been staring at a snake, coiled and asleep and appearing to be harmless, only to realise that all along it had been braced for attack, its muscles pulled taught and ready to spring with its teeth bared. Vera had held her doubts before, but she knew now that this girl was raised by John. Her posture oozed the character of the man. It disoriented Vera to see Emma like this and she had to do a double take just to make sure it was the same girl. Brown eyes took a few steps back, positioning herself behind Marcai, giving the snake whatever space she may need to do whatever it was she had planned.

“Marcai.” Emma said in a soft voice, leaning down to be face to face with him, “Do you have kids?” She asked. Marcai looked at her defiantly, his brown eyes locking with her green. “Yes? You have kids?” Emma repeated. Marcai’s silence was answer enough. “I can help them. I’m rich. You want them educated? I can get them into the best school in the country.” Marcai didn’t flinch. Emma gave a small shrug and leant her head to one side, “What do you want? Tell me what you want?” 

“I won’t be bribed.” Marcai growled, his jaw clenching. Tsuru watched from the edge of the room, looking unconvinced by Emma's methods. Vera, however, could tell Emma was making progress and held her breath as if the noise of respiration would snap Emma out of her focus.

“Then tell me how you plan on getting out of this situation?” Emma questioned, blinking those plain green eyes innocently. Marcai was silent again. “You can’t go back to how things were, can you?” She pushed. That seemed to work, something in Marcai clicked, a realisation. His back straightened and he took a shaky breath. “You failed. You can’t go back to who you were, they won’t let you, will they? Whoever you’re working for, they don’t want a soldier who can’t deliver.” Marcai averted his eyes, then shut them altogether. “Let’s just accept that, Marcai. Let’s just accept that and move on. Accept that and allow me to help you get yourself a life again.” Emma held the silence as Marcai began to tremble. _Is he crying?_ Vera wondered. “They won’t know you told us anything. You won’t be punished. And, if all goes well, you’ll benefit from helping us. Your family will benefit from helping us.” Emma put a gentle hand on Marcai’s shoulder, “Think of your future, Marcai.” 

“I'm sorry..." Marcai breathed weakly, giving in. Emma straightened up again, her demeanour returning to its usual state; harmless and unassuming. Vera had first been certain the snake was asleep, then she's been certain it was poised to strike. Now, she had no clue what to think. She felt a mixture of uncertainty and admiration. Emma gestured at Marcai, casting Tsuru and Vera a look,

“Ask your questions.” Was all she said before taking a few steps back. Tsuru glanced at Emma and then at Marcai, he was as baffled as Vera, but he soon snapped out of it. 

“Why did you try to kidnap her?” Tsuru asked, approaching slowly. Marcai looked at him sadly,

“There were meant to be more of us,” He began, his voice shaking, “We planned on ten of us going in, we created distractions to keep the society occupied but-” Marcai cut himself off and hung his head, letting out a single sob, before raising it again, his eyes wet now, “But they found our group as we approached the forest. They slaughtered us silently. We fought back, we killed every last one of those sons of bitches but…only me and Jimmel made it.” Marcai paused, then let out a low groan, “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Vera had walked around to be in front of Marcai and she looked down at him sympathetically. 

“Yes.” She said, assuming Jimmel was the man who had killed himself earlier that day. Marcai whimpered and seemed to cave in on himself. Tsuru was getting impatient,

“Why did you try to kidnap Emma?” He repeated. Marcai shook his head,

“They didn’t tell us. I was just following orders.” He admitted. Tsuru took a step back and let out a growl of frustration, turning to Vera. 

“This is useless.” He hissed at Vera, “We should have stayed in the cottage.” Vera was about to retort, sneering down at Tsuru, but Emma beat her to it. She held out her hand to silence Tsuru once more,

“Surely you didn’t expect to find answers in the first place we looked?” She asked him. Tsuru narrowed his eyes, 

“Don’t play games with me,” He hissed, and then, gesturing angrily, “I’ve been doing this far longer than either of you.” Emma ignored him and turned to Marcai, 

“Who told you? Who’s orders are you following?” Marcai shifted in his seat. 

“I’m part of a group. We call ourselves the rebellion.” Vera looked at Marcai in mild interest. She’d heard ‘the rebellion’ whispered here and there in the past but she’d thought it was a concept of revolt, not the name of a group. 

“The rebellion?” Emma narrowed her eyes in confusion. Marcai looked up at her, his eyes full of rage, 

“Yes, the rebellion. It formed after the society sold this country out to wealthy foreigners. We fight to free our country from those greedy men and women.” Marcai spat the words. Clearly, he felt strongly about this. Emma looked confused.

“Hold on, you’re saying a lot of things here. The society, wealthy foreigners, what is all of that?” Marcai laughed bitterly at Emma’s question, 

“How young are you? You can’t have been alive when it happened but surely your parents must have told you?” Emma flinched. 

“My mother died when I was young, and my father is rarely around.” Emma murmured in a low voice, her calm investigative demeanour slipping. She took a breath to relax herself. Marcai regarded Emma, then continued, 

“Our country was poor. Dirt poor. But we were free. Then, almost over night, wealth flooded in. Jobs and buildings sprouted all over the country like a forest. A new capital city, Bochardess, was formed.” Marcai sneered, “It was all a lie. The wealth wasn’t for the citizens, it was for the few who’d been scared of losing their grip on power.” Marcai’s words gained in speed and volume as if he was chanting. He leant forward in the seat. “The rebellion will revolt, we will destroy them, and we will return this country to its former glory. We are a revolution.” Emma looked back at Vera with a questioning look. Vera didn’t know what to say, she knew nothing about the rebellion beyond what Marcai had just told her. She furrowed her brow sceptically. 

“For a revolution, you're awfully quiet." Vera pointed out, "How come I've never heard of you? How do we know any of this is true?" Marcai slumped in his seat, looking at the floor in shame 

“The rebellion has been more restrained for a decade or so. I don't know why but we've held back on riots and open revolt. The generals say we're getting all our pieces in place first, and then we'll spring the trap." He shrugged, "It's not the way I'd do it, but it's what our leaders command. They say our agents are hidden everywhere, watching and listening. Waiting." Marcai looked back up and smiled wickedly, "Last night, though, something changed. We got an order to create distractions and move in on you. A lot of our men are still undercover, but those available led a charge. The rebellion was springing the trap, we all felt alive. This was what we'd been building up to for thirteen years. This was the fall of the society.”

“I take it this ‘trap’ didn’t work.” Vera sneered. Marcai’s enthusiasm evaporated and he hung his head once more. _I’ll take that as a no._

“What were these distractions? Can you tell us?” Emma asked. Marcai nodded, looking relieved to move on from his failure. 

“Yes, I can. We placed attacks on two different sectors to drain the resources of the society. The best way to draw its attention where we want it; threaten its control and profits. We launched an attack on the police base, and we tried to assassinate key players.” Vera narrowed her eyes and glanced from Emma to Marcai,

“What do you mean by key players?” Vera cut in, looking back to him. Marcai paused, then, 

“Imagine everything is a chess board. People like you and me, we’re the pawns. Key players? They’re the rooks, the castles, the bishops. If you can take them out you have the advantage.” Marcai explained. Vera took a moment to mull it over, 

“Who are these key players?” She asked. Marcai took a moment to think. 

“Urham Djan, Tommett Reaver, John Chavez, Henrek-” 

“Hold it!” Emma cut in suddenly, her voice raised in panic, “John Chavez?” She checked, “He’s been assassinated?” Emma’s hands were shaking, her eyes narrowed to slits. Vera could see her chest rise and fall swiftly, her breaths short and quick. Marcai shook his head and Emma let out a gasp of relief, clasping her hands over her mouth. 

“We only managed to get two. Mr Djan and Mr Reaver.” Vera examined Marcai. 

“Where were they killed, Mr Djan and Mr Reaver?” Vera's tried to act uninterested, this was their next lead, a lead they desperately needed. If Marcai picked up on that he may use it as leverage.

“In the Library of Definitive Arts, in West Bochardess.” He responded. Vera looked at Tsuru and then at Emma. Both of them gave her a nod. 

“Thank you.” Emma said to Marcai.

“Join us." Marcai cut in abruptly, his eyes ablaze. "The society are evil. They must be dismantled." He looked hopefully from one of them to the next. The three remained silent. "You heard what I said, didn't you? The society are sucking the warm blood from this country and its people!”

"It's a good thing I care not for either of those." Vera answered coldly. She would be lying to say she wasn't tempted, but deep down she knew the rebellion was a fool's movement. At least, that's what it sounded like. Marcai moved slowly, leaning back in his chair in resignation. He looked at the floor glumly. Tsuru and Emma turned to leave.

"Wait!" Marcai spoke up again. Emma looked back first, her face concerned. Tsuru and Vera paused before returning their attention to the man. "They might kick me out..." He murmured to Emma, "They might kill me. Please, you have to help me. you said you'd help me!" Emma's brow furrowed in guilt, but she remained silent. Marcai looked at Tsuru desperately. "Please!" Tsuru put a hand on Emma's shoulder and pulled her towards the exit.

“We have our own problems to handle first." Tsuru answered. Marcai turned his gaze back to Emma. Emma glanced from Vera to Tsuru, but soon Emma, too, realised there was nothing they could do. Her face melted into despair.

"Guys, we can't just leave him." She pleaded. Tsuru gave his head a shake. Emma swallowed, then looked at Marcai sadly. "I'm sorry." Emma managed. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." She added. Tsuru let out a breath of impatience and led Emma to the door, pushing it open, and leading her outside. Vera looked Marcai up and down. She felt sympathy for him but knew that there were people in Bochardess who had it far worse. 

“You’ll get by.” She told him honestly. Then she left, following after Tsuru and Emma. 

Ryan had been standing outside the room, leant against the wall with a lit cigarette in his mouth. He watched them go in confusion. “We changed our minds, don’t want to buy anything.” Vera explained, scowling at him. She looked after Tsuru and Emma and saw they had reached the exit. A second later, they were out of sight. She paused, thinking back to how Emma had taunted Tsuru with such confidence, shooting down his jibes. A smile graced Vera’s lips as she turned to Ryan again. “Oh wait, I do remember you.” She said. “The Julton, correct?” Ryan’s face lit up, 

“I knew it!” He chimed triumphantly. Vera’s face twisted in contempt, 

“Yes, how could I forget a man so tiny.” She spat. Then turned and walked away, anger seething below her skin, “Hope you had that nasty rash of yours checked out.” She called loudly enough for everyone in the building to hear. Ryan Faulty’s cheeks went red as he stared after her in dismay.

“I’ve never had a rash!” He cried after her in indignation, but Vera was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story please leave a kudos and/or comment to let me know!


	8. Chapter 7

** Chapter 7 **

Vera pulled her puffer jacket together, zipping it shut, as she walked out of Faulty’s house. The cold district’s freezing breeze buffeted her cheeks, but anger and exhilaration muted the chilling feeling. The buildings of the cold district, or South Bochardess, were grey and grimy. The cement walls turned blue or green or pink by tacky neon signs. Alley ways were littered with up turned bins and cardboard boxes, serving as houses for the lowest of those living here. Vera looked around herself for Tsuru and Emma. The two were walking down the pavement talking to each other. Vera walked quickly towards them, their conversation drifting towards her as she neared. They were speaking in a different language and confusion pricked at Brown Eyes. 

“What’s going on?” She asked once she’d caught up, walking on Emma’s right-hand side. Tsuru looked at her in amazement.

“She can speak, like, twelve languages!” He exclaimed. Emma turned her face down in embarrassment. Vera blinked at her in surprise,

“That many?” She asked. Emma shrugged,

“It’s closer to twenty.” She admitted, then, hurriedly adding, “And I’m not fluent, my pronunciation is abysmal, and my grammar isn’t any better.”

“You were speaking to me in Japanese.” Tsuru pointed out, impressed. Emma cast him a disbelieving look. “Okay, so your pronunciation was a little off.” Emma continued to stare at him. “Fine, it was like a two-year-old.” He relented, “But it was far more than what most people can manage, and it was understandable.” Emma folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, “Okay, it was occasionally _barely_ understandable, but _still_.”

“I only ever had textbooks as a reference,” Emma explained, looking from Tsuru to Vera, unfolding her arms. “Reading words is very different to speaking words. I never had any practical learning. I talked to walls and empty chairs, and they don’t correct me when I get it horribly wrong.”

“How did you have the time to teach yourself ?” Vera questioned. Emma looked back at the floor as they walked along.

“I have lots of time, generally.” Emma murmured quietly, “I spend most of it learning instruments, languages and sports.” Vera narrowed her eyes suspiciously, something was not being said but she couldn’t figure out what. Tsuru shrugged obliviously,

“Who cares, that was good work you did back there.” Vera nodded grudgingly in agreement, allowing her suspicion to slide. Tsuru fixed her with a harsh look. Brown Eyes cleared her throat,  
“Uh, yes, good work.” She muttered awkwardly, making her approval verbal. Emma looked at her with those _oh so_ plain green eyes and smiled,

“Thanks.” She said. Vera looked at her with a blank expression, blinking. 

“I said it too!” Tsuru scoffed. 

“Sorry, thank you also.” Emma teased, wrapping her arms around Tsuru’s right and giving it a squeeze, “Is that better little baby?” She asked teasingly. Tsuru cast her a disdainful look,

“You’re the youngest here, _baby_.” Tsuru pointed out, then, “So. We need to go to the…” Tsuru trailed off.

“Library of Definitive Arts?” Vera reminded him. 

“Yes. That. Which is…” Tsuru looked around himself as if a sign for it would pop up. Vera couldn’t resist a smirk. She may have only lived in Bochardess for two years, give or take, but she knew the layout fairly well. Certainly better than Tsuru did. 

“The Library is in that direction.” She said, pointing towards some very tall buildings in the distance, “It’s on the edge of West Bochardess, built recently in the grand scheme of things.” Tsuru gave nod. “Let’s go get some more answers.” Vera added, increasing her pace. Tsuru detached himself from Emma and quickened his steps to keep up with her.

“Ehem.” Emma got their attention. She’d stopped walking, looking at the two of them in amusement. Vera and Tsuru stopped and looked back at her. 

“Yes?” Vera asked impatiently. 

“It’s a Sunday.” Emma pointed out, “The Library will be closed.” Vera stilled. Christianity wasn't the main religion of Bochardess, _Uurism_ was, but it too had a day of rest on Sundays. 

“She’s right.” Vera grunted. Tsuru let out a sigh,

“Yes, but there have been two murders there you fools, the police will have zoned off the Library anyway, we just need to break in.” Vera considered Tsuru for a moment, then gave a nod.

“I suppose.” But she sounded reluctant. Emma said it first,

“My feet hurt. I don’t want to walk all that way this late in the day.” She protested. Vera didn’t say anything, but silently agreed. Her own feet were sore. Tsuru tilted his head in thought. 

“If we want to break into the Library undetected we should do some preparation.” 

“There are documents on Bochardess back at the cottage.” Emma offered, “There has to be something on the Library in those.” Tsuru nodded.

“Okay. Me and Emma are going to go buy some proper food, Vera you go back to the cottage and do some investigating. Find out what you can on the Library.” Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath at that,

“Emma and I.” She snapped. Tsuru startled and looked at her in confusion,

“No, Vera. Me and Emma don’t know as much about Bochardess so it should be you who goes back to the cottage. It makes no sense if you and Emma go and buy the food.” Tsuru protested. Vera narrowed her eyes. 

“I don’t care who goes where, the correct grammatical phrase is not ‘me and Emma’ but ‘Emma and I’.” Vera had let other grammatical errors slip, not bothering to correct them, but this time she’d just blurted it out. Tsuru raised an eyebrow,

“Alright, while you go back to the cottage and have a passionate night with grammar, _Emma and I_ are going to go buy all the meat the market has.” He teased.

“I’m not eating any.” Emma grumbled. Tsuru had turned to walk towards the market.

“I wasn’t offering.” He called over his shoulder. Emma and Vera looked after him in silence, then Emma turned to Vera.

“I didn’t get a chance to say this before, Vera, but…” Emma looked at the floor, then up at Vera, her face gentle. “Thank you. For letting me make my own choice about joining you two on the investigation. It was very thoughtful of you.” Emma finished. Vera stared down at her in silence, her face expressionless. 

“Emma!” Tsuru called. 

“See you back at the cottage.” Emma smiled, then scurried off after the man. Vera watched her go and, when she was certain Emma couldn’t hear her, said,

“Your welcome.” Her heart was in her throat. She walked down the pavements of the cold district, slowly making her way back towards the cottage. Her thoughts plagued with a horrific realisation. Tsuru and Emma had their issues. Tsuru made puns and awful jokes and couldn’t say anything without being too serious or not serious enough. Emma was naïve and foolish, and far too trusting. She was blind to how the world actually was, and that was infuriating. But soon Tsuru’s jokes and Emma’s optimism would shift from irritating habits to endearing quirks. She was going to have to spend a lot of time with them, she shared a cottage with them after all, and when that shift finally happened a strangers cruelty would become a friends betrayal. Vera wasn’t sure if she wanted that, or was ready for that again. 

Vera had had friends before. She’d had people she trusted, people she shouldn’t have trusted. She didn’t want that again, she didn’t want the risks that came with it. Real friends, true friends, were the kind of people who remembered the most mundane of things about you. The sorts of people who didn’t do big things every now and then, but small things almost constantly. With every word supporting you. Vera was certain that Emma and Tsuru weren’t those kinds of people. Even if they were, Vera had had true friends before, and it hadn't worked out then, so why would it now? 

It was mid summer, her parents had moved from the coast to a small village about an hours drive from the capital. It was small and insufferable, with farms and fields stretching out for miles. The people were strange, the food was strange, every inch of the place was unfamiliar. Vera did not feel at home. She’d started a new school, and she’d met someone. Their name didn’t matter, all that mattered was that they were someone Vera felt comfortable with. Someone who gave her not only something to laugh about, but someone to laugh with. They smelt of home and felt like happiness. This one person transformed her life, and in spite of the unfavourable move to an unfamiliar village, Vera had never felt happier. Her life had never been better. 

But that all changed one night. It had rushed through her like the sharp cut of a guillotine, like a plunge off the side of a cliff. It was as if she had been branded, and the singe of the mark still burned to this day, shadowing her at every step. One night the one person she thought gave her safety took that all away. The oxygen left her lungs, the blood shocked from her veins, and then she didn’t have a friend anymore. She didn’t have a family anymore. She didn’t have her life anymore. Everything went downhill from that one fateful moment. 

Vera was knelt on the concrete, one hand splayed on the floor, the other pressed against her face, her eyes squeezed shut. Her breaths came in gasps and sweat dripped down her forehead. She wasn’t sure when her thoughts had changed into panic but they had. She tried to regulate her breathing, and listened to the swaying of trees around her. It almost sounded like the ocean, the sound she’d listen too when she was younger and struggling with sleep. Every inch of her was shivering, but not from the cold. It was as if her body had lost all structure. But, eventually, she was calm enough to rise to her feet. 

She clenched her fists and looked up at the cloudy sky. Somehow she’d walked herself to the forest Blue Jay cottage resided in. Thankfully, the deserted wood held no people to witness her momentary rush of panic, so that was one less thing to be concerned about. Vera got her legs to move, walking down the road silently. She put her hands into her pockets and pushed all thoughts of friends and her past away, before fear would seize her once more, desperately trying to ignore what had just happened, how quickly she’d lost control of herself.

She came up to the front gate of Blue jay cottage and entered the code, walking onto the grounds. It occurred to her that Tsuru didn’t know the new code she’d set for the gate, and so while walking towards the front door she took out her phone and texted it to him. 

 

_Dear Tsuru,_

_The keypad code has been changed to ‘3662’._

_-Vera_

 

She reached the front door and, once again, looked it up and down in admiration. The carving was precise and gorgeous. She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. Hanging her coat up and placing her shoes on the shoe rack, Vera assured everything was left neatly, and then went into the sitting room. _Documents._ She instructed herself, glancing around the furniture and cabinets. She opened a few draws before locating a file in one of them. It didn’t take her long to sort through the papers and sift out all the useful ones. 

She ordered them neatly on the table by the bay windows. They were in alphabetical order, corner to corner, perfectly neat. She scanned over a few of them. Some talked of deals on tickets, others talked about new exhibits and books the Library was holding. The most useful one, however, was an article titled; ‘Library build finished; Art in West Bochardess.’ Vera scanned through, trying her best to ignore the boredom tugging at her mind. The article outlined how the new structure used natural light to fill its space as an appreciation of _Uurgoe. It doesn’t have its own light system._ Vera noted. She read on. 

The article had many photos of the building from different angles and Brown eyes examined them closely. The window and door locks looked too complex for a simple lock pick, which meant Vera couldn’t break them in that way. Brown eyes considered shattering a window and getting in using that method, but that would cause too much noise and leave evidence of their presence behind. Vera narrowed her eyes as an idea came to her. Whoever had murdered Mr Djan and Mr Reaver did so this morning, on a Sunday, and so would have had to break into the Library themselves. All Vera had to do was find the window that the killer had used. The killer either, one, picked the lock on the window in which case Vera just had to check the windows until she found one that opened on its own or, two, the killer broke a window in which case locating an entry point would be even easier given how obvious the broken window would be. 

Vera hoped the killer had gone for the second option, as the Library was full of windows to allow natural light in, and Vera didn’t fancy checking all of them. Brown eyes’ phone buzzed. It was Tsuru. 

 

_Oh dearest Vera,_

_Trust you to write a text like you would an email. Your code joke is very funny but too easily guessed, we’ll need to change it._

_~Tsuru Takano~ (My line is curvy and so better than yours :P)_

 

Vera clenched her jaw, even in text Tsuru was unbearable. _It’s a common format._ She thought, defending the formal tone in her text. Then she stilled, reading Tsuru’s texts once more. _What does he mean by ‘code joke’?_ Vera’s heart quickened and she looked at her phone’s key pad. It took her a second, but she spotted what letters the numbers 3662 corresponded with. _Emma._ She put her head in her hands. _Did I do that on purpose?_ Deep down, Vera knew the answer. She ignored her speeding heart and put her phone back in her pocket, turning her focus to planning. 

She glanced outside, the sky was already darkening. Bochardess winters have intensely short days, and its summers had intensely short nights. There was no way they could get to the Library before it got dark, and in order to see the crime scene to investigate they’d need flashlights, but flashlights would be far too obvious. 

Vera had put the papers away in a draw and was pacing around, waiting for Tsuru and Emma. They were taking a long time. At last Vera heard the turn of keys in the door. Instinctually she grabbed the rifle on the coffee table and aimed it at the entrance. It took a second before she felt foolish. By the time Tsuru had walked in she’d placed it back down. _Habits die hard._ She thought, knowing it all too well. 

“Sorry we took so long.” Emma grunted as she stumbled her way in, holding a large, heavy bag. “Tsuru _literally_ bought all the meat they had.” She dumped the bags in the kitchen, Tsuru following close behind her, having shut the front door. 

“I hope you put all that away.” Vera commented. Tsuru cast her a confused look,

“You mean in my stomach, right?” He checked, “Cause I’m eating all of this.” He grabbed a packet of ham out of one bag and, taking a bite, crashed on the cream coloured couch. He let out a groan. “MMmmoh my God, I missed you.”

“You were only gone a couple of hours.” Vera reminded him. Tsuru glared at her,

“I meant the meat, not you.” Emma shook her head in disgust.

“I don’t know how you can eat that.” She murmured. Tsuru smiled tauntingly at her.

“With pleasure.” He said, popping more ham into his mouth. Emma folded her arms.

“Oh!” She said suddenly, her face lighting up as she remembered something. She dropped to her knees and searched through the bags, one after another, muttering to herself. “Where is it…” She reached the final bag and lifted something out of it, triumph written over her face. She walked over to Vera, holding the thing behind her back. “I know I said thank you earlier but…” Emma smiled up at Vera, her show of gratitude before had been timid, but this time there was more confidence. “I really appreciated what you did. So I got you this.” Emma produced the gift. It was brand new, tightly sealed. 

A jam jar.

Vera’s body froze. She stared down at the jar in silence, her face still. Emma shifted awkwardly, confused at Vera’s reaction. Brown eyes reached out to the jam jar, it felt as if her arm was tied down moving it felt so difficult. The cold glass pressed against her palm as she closed her hand around the jar and took it from Emma. Vera turned it over in her hand, the shape familiar, the coolness welcome. She looked at Emma, her face serious. 

“Thank you.” She said, not a hint of insincerity in her voice. Emma’s confused face turned into a smile. 

“Your welcome.” She responded, taking off her pink coat and flopping down on the similarly coloured couch.

“What’s the plan, Vera?” Tsuru’s voice cut in. His voice was cold and sharp to Vera after hearing Emma’s. Vera’s gaze snapped onto him. He’d finished the ham and had piled the rest of the meat onto another plate, which he clanged onto the table by the bay window, sitting down to eat. Vera put her jam jar down on the table and folded her arms, leaning against the wall. 

“We break in and investigate.” She said simply. 

“Spare me the theatrics, give me the details.” Tsuru scolded her. Vera raised an eyebrow but didn’t complain.

“The front door isn’t an option. The police will have the area blocked off, so we’ll need to get in another way.” She gestured at the draw in the cabinet, “I found an article with photos of the building. Lots of windows. We can sneak in through one of those.”

“They’ll be locked.” Tsuru pointed out helpfully, his mouth full of pepperoni and sausages. Vera and Emma recoiled at the sight. Tsuru covered his mouth, “Oh.” He realised, “Sorry.” 

“They are locked.” Vera agreed, her voice slow as she recovered from the sight ingrained in her brain, “I can’t unlock them, I’m not good enough, and breaking them will draw attention.”

“What do we do then?” Emma asked. Vera looked pointedly at her then Tsuru, flaring her nostrils impatiently.

“If you two would stop interrupting you’d know by now.” She hissed. They silenced. “Whoever killed Mr Djan and Mr Reaver did so this morning, _this Sunday,_ so the Library would have been locked. They must have broken a window or picked a lock, either way, we find the window they used, and go through it.” Vera uncrossed her arms, gesturing upwards, towards the sky, “We’ll need to break in tomorrow morning as it’s too dark now. If we use flashlights to look around the crime scene we’ll be spotted easily. We’ll need daylight to illuminate the place.” Tsuru looked sceptical,

“Doesn’t the Library have its own lighting system? Isn’t it brand new?” He asked. Vera nodded,

“It is brand new, but it doesn’t have any electrical lights.” She explained, “The Library of Definitive Arts was built as a tribute to _Uurgoe_.”

“What the what?” Tsuru spluttered, mouth full. 

“Tsuru!” Emma protested, “Mouth closed!” Tsuru flinched,

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“ _Uurgoe_.” Vera clarified, gesturing out the window, “Other wise known as the sun. The source of all life and energy, the bringer of warmth, birth and death. The deity of _Uurism_.”

“You are making no sense.” Tsuru stared at her blankly. 

“I think I get it.” Emma cut in, nodding her head, “It’s the religion of Bochardess, isn’t it? _Uurism_?”

“The whole country, really.” Vera added. Emma gave another nod,

“So _Uurgoe_ is their god, and he or she manifests themselves as the sun, the source of all, being itself.” Emma turned to Tsuru, “Do you understand?” She asked. Tsuru shook his head.

“Sounds stupid.” He said, taking a bite of ham. Vera’s sneered,

“Don’t be so quick to judge.” She sniped. Emma turned to look at her in confusion and the memory of Vera saying how she thought believers were insane rose in her mind. Vera shrugged, “I mean, it’s still a little stupid.” She went back on herself stubbornly. Emma looked bemused. Vera continued the conversation hastily, “The Library is such a large tourist attraction because it was built to transport people spiritually to being in the presence of _Uurgoe._ It has no electrical lighting because the building was sculpted to use natural light to illuminate every nook and cranny, to show the essence of _Uurgoe,_ so that you could stand in all of _Uurgoe’s_ work.” Vera shrugged, “The article claimed it was very beautiful.”

“Strange.” Tsuru shook his head, then, “You’re Bochardian, how come you don’t follow this _Uurgoe_ guy?” 

“You’re from Japan, how come you don’t believe in Shinto? How come you’re not a Buddhist?” Vera snapped back.

“I left Japan behind.” Tsuru responded darkly. Vera was silent for a moment, looking at the floor.

“I’m not religious.” She said, “I worship a different sort of sunshine.” Tsuru let out a resigned sigh,

“How come the sun rested on the seventh day? The sun comes out every day. It makes no sense.” 

“ _Uurism_ doesn’t believe in the day of rest for the same reasons as Christianity.” Vera explained, “ _Uurgoe_ allows them to rest on the Sunday as a gift, _Uurgoe_ provides life and order constantly so that they don’t have to, so that they can sleep at night and rest on Sundays.”

“I just don’t buy it.” Tsuru admitted, but gave in. “Alright, we’ll go tomorrow when there’s natural light. Anything else?”

“We’ll need a distraction, I don’t want police to see me poking around their crime scene.” Vera said. 

“I’ll figure something out.” Tsuru dismissed, “Now, let me eat in peace.” Vera moved away from the wall,

“I’m going to turn in then.” She said, picking up her jar, her gaze locked on it, “Get a good nights rest for tomorrow.” 

“It’s six.” Emma pointed out. 

“I’m not a night owl.” Vera responded, heading up the chocolate coloured staircase. She opened the door to her room and entered, shutting it behind her. It felt good to be in the small, functional space. A perfectly ordered cocoon to relax in. 

She sat down on her bed and looked at the jam jar in her hands. Every muscle in her body was taught, her mind buzzing with anticipation. She fastened her left hand around the lid and turned. The air seal broke and in the silence a popping noise erupted around her. It may have been a small sound, but to Vera is was a crashing wave. Her breath hitched and goose bumps raised along her arms, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She hadn’t had sunshine in a long time, but for a brief moment she completely forgot about all that. 

Slowly, she opened and closed the jam jar a few more times, her muscles relaxing with each noise, her heart rate easing. She closed her eyes as she opened it one final time, then sealed it and placed it safely in her bedside table. She let out a long breath of satisfaction and stood. 

Vera glanced at her backpack which she’d left neatly on top of her chest of draws and walked over to it. She pulled out a booklet that Gortald had put in there for her. _The briefing._ She’d skimmed through the essential information, such as the code for the front gate, and how to reset the keypad, but she hadn’t bothered with much more than that. There was no other reading in the house and she’d need to read this eventually so she figured why not now. She sat back down on her bed, conscious to not cause more wrinkles in the sheet than necessary, and flicked through the booklet. There was the part about the code, how to reset it, cooking, facilities, etcetera. Tsuru had probably read all of this already, Vera needed to catch up. She stilled and her heart began to pound again when she saw a sentence on page seven. It read; 

_‘Emma is to remain on the premises at all times unless an emergency requires her to leave…. If Emma leaves the premises at no point should her name be used, but rather a pseudo name… should be allocated… Your own name could now be linked with Emma’s… and must also not be used.’_

 

Something finally clicked. Vera’s hands tightened on the booklet, her heart was beating loudly in her ears now, she felt the familiar feeling of anger swelling inside of her. It all fit together, how Emma had the time to learn so many languages, why her violin playing sounded confident and yet at a beginners level, why there was a ridiculous amount of sporting facilities. Vera threw the booklet on the floor, leaving it in a messy heap. She didn’t bare it the smallest of thoughts as she stormed out of her room and down the stairs to the sitting room. Emma was on the pink couch, dozing. Tsuru had finished his plate of meat and was leant back, hand happily resting on his stomach. Vera’s brown eyes cut into Emma furiously. 

“How long have you been locked up in here?” Vera asked, her voice low and dangerous. Emma’s eyes widened and a panicked look rushed across her face as she registered what Vera had asked. She shrank into her seat. Tsuru got to his feet, his face dark.

“You have no business asking her that.” He warned. 

“I’ll ask her what I like.” Vera snapped back, her hands clenching into fists. Tsuru’s eyes flashed in anger,

“I’ve been very forgiving, Vera. You compromise our charge by taking her outside, you get drunk on the first night, you challenge my decisions at every opportunity to do so and now you ask questions you have no business asking.” Tsuru voice rising in frustration. 

“I didn’t know she wasn’t meant to leave!” Vera defended herself. Tsuru’s was silent, then his face twisted into contempt.

“You didn’t read the briefing, did you?” He spat. Vera didn’t respond. “Why did Gortald even give you this job?” He hissed, angrily gesturing at her, taking steps forwards whilst Vera took steps back. “What experience do you even have?” Vera didn’t know how to answer, so she didn’t. “Oh my God. This is your first time as a bodyguard.” He breathed, moving away from her now.

“I’ve been in tough situations before.” Vera retorted. Tsuru’s didn’t seem to care.

“I’m working with a rookie.” He realised. Emma turned from Tsuru to Vera, then back again, her expression helpless.

“I know how to survive.” Vera’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“There is a big difference between survival and protection. One you clearly don’t understand.”

“What experience do _you_ have?” Vera challenged, baring her teeth. Tsuru glared at her,

“There you go again, asking questions you have no business asking.” He growled, “You have no sense of-”

“Thirteen years.” Emma’s voice cut through, loud and clear, the girl standing up from the sofa abruptly. Vera and Tsuru stood, teeth bared, glaring at each other. Slowly, their faces fell. They turned to look at Emma. Tsuru appeared as horrified as Vera felt. _Thirteen years locked away._ Vera’s thought burned in her mind. She took a step towards Emma, her eyes intense,

“Once we’ve finished investigating tomorrow, I’m taking you out.” She resolved, “I’ll show you the whole of Bochardess if I have two. You won’t remain chained up in this place a day longer.” Emma’s green eyes were cautious, as if she couldn’t believe Vera’s words, as if the hope was too good to be true. 

“No, you won’t.” Tsuru cut in. Vera turned to look at him, sneering.

“You can’t stop me.” She hissed. Tsuru moved towards her, he was close now, Vera could almost feel his anger. 

“I can and I will.” His voice was low and furious, threatening violence. “Our job is to ensure Emma’s safety, not her enjoyment. She does not leave these grounds unless it is under my permission to go investigate.” 

“She’s not a pet, Tsuru!” Vera’s voice was raising as well, now. Tsuru flinched,

“I never said she was.” he defended himself lamely. 

“Then why is she only allowed to go out on a lead?” Vera shouted, her skin felt hot, adrenaline was surging through her. Tsuru fixed her with a hateful look which she returned in kind. There was an angry silence until Emma started to laugh. Tsuru and Vera looked at her in confusion, the tension melting. 

“Vera…” Emma managed between giggles, “You made a pun!” Vera furrowed her brow in confusion, then back tracked over her words. Her face fell once it hit her. _Only allowed to go out on a lead._ She let out a groan, lead could mean either a leash, for a pet, or a lead, in an investigation. Vera let out a long, tired breath, furrowing her brow and pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“I’m so proud.” Tsuru breathed, dabbing his eyes as if he were crying, the argument seemingly forgotten.

“Whatever.” Vera growled, sneering and letting out a sharp breath. She turned and went back out into the hallway. “I’m going to bed.” She snapped in a bad temper.

“Vera.” Tsuru said, his voice serious again. Vera stilled and looked back at him cautiously, one foot already on the stair case. “I’m sorry I got angry, but I meant what I said. I won’t let you needlessly endanger her.” Vera paused and gave a resigned nod. 

“You’re right.” She lied, “It’s best if she stays here when she can.” Vera tried to forget the crest fallen look that fell over Emma’s face as she walked up the stairs. _I’ll sneak her out if I have too._ She told herself. _I will not let her be locked up anymore._


	9. Chapter 8

** Chapter 8 **

Vera awoke a few moments before her alarm sounded. _Sleep is still under my control._ She assured herself in relief. Troubled sleep was never pleasant, but controlled sleep was always preferable.   
There were no screams of panic from Emma’s room on this day so Vera’s waking before her alarm was genuine. For the first time in a while Vera had managed to rise before her alarm, and her morning ritual was therefore back on track. It was a good feeling to wake up to.   
Vera turned her alarm off and sat up, taking the jam jar out of her bed side table. She opened and closed it a few times, her spine tingling at the feeling, before placing it back in the draw. She dressed in her usual black ensemble, putting her night clothes in the washing machine, and made her way downstairs. Brown Eyes was the first up and poured herself a glass of water, sitting down on the table by the bay window, taking occasional sips. She heard Tsuru wake and mutter ‘thank God there’s no worm’ before he entered the sitting room. She didn’t look at him, focussing her gaze on the frosted grass outside.

“You’ll need these.” He said softly, putting a pair of black leather gloves on the table. Vera looked down at them and then up at him. “So you don’t leave fingerprints behind.” Tsuru clarified. Vera held his gaze, letting her contempt for him be known, before she placed her glass down and reached for the gloves, trying them on. They were tight and stretched over her fingers snugly. She clenched her hand and the leather made a squishing noise. _It will do._

“Thank you.” She said politely, then, “I think Emma should come into the Library with me.” Tsuru arched an eyebrow,

“I thought you wanted a distraction?” 

“I do.” She answered. Tsuru looked at her in silence for a few seconds,

“Oh no, no, no, no. Tsuru Takano is _not_ a distraction. I’ll be better at sneaking in and investigating than she is.”

“And infinitely better at drawing attention to yourself.” Vera added, removing the gloves and taking a sip of water. “I thought the aim was to keep Emma out of sight and unnoticed. She can’t do that _and_ be a distraction.” She pointed out. Tsuru paused, thinking, looking out of the bay window silently. Vera decided to push some more, “As we’ve seen, the people we’re looking into can be multilingual as well, it may be that some of the evidence is in another language. Emma would be useful if that were the case.” 

“Why don’t me and Emma go in and you make a distraction instead.” Tsuru offered.

“I might have considered that if that sentence had been grammatically correct.” Vera replied grumpily, finishing her water in one, long gulp. She let out a breath. “Also… the police already know me.” She said quietly. 

“Pardon?” Tsuru blinked in surprise.

“The police will recognise my face.” Vera reiterated, baring her teeth. Tsuru cocked his head curiously.

“Why?”

“As I said last night, I’ve been through tough situations before.” Vera didn’t want to tell him the whole truth just yet. “And, anyway, I thought you told me ‘you’d handle it’.” Tsuru drooped, 

“You have an answer for everything.” He muttered, “Alright, Vera, I’ll distract them.” Emma walked into the sitting room.

“Are we leaving yet? The sun’s up.” She asked, turning her sluggish eyes on them. Vera and Tsuru looked her up and down. She was dressed in a light green form fitting dress, her hair pulled back in a bun.

“You need to change.” Tsuru said, “You’re sneaking into the Library with Vera and green isn’t a subtle colour. You want something more like this,” Tsuru gestured at his own outfit, a plain white shirt and black jeans. “I’ll go get my other set of gloves.” He announced, marching past Emma. The girl looked at Vera as Tsuru left the room, her eyes went from tired to excited, 

“We’re going in together?” She asked in a whisper. Vera couldn’t help her own thrill of anticipation, but suppressed all physical signs, giving a calm, measured nod. 

“Yes.” She confirmed simply. Emma held out her hand and Vera looked at it dubiously. 

“What is this?” She asked.

“High five.” Emma explained. Vera looked at Emma with a frown of disapproval. 

“No.” Was all she said. Emma sadly lowered her arm. Tsuru returned and chucked the gloves to Emma. 

“Here.” He said. Emma caught them easily, her reaction quick and instinctual, then put them on. They fit perfectly. “Now, go get some black clothes.” He instructed. Emma looked between Tsuru and Vera awkwardly, shrugging,

“I don’t own a completely black outfit.” She admitted. _Of course she doesn’t._

“Borrow one of Vera’s.” Tsuru said, “She dresses for a robbery every day, all she needs is a ski mask.” _I have a ski mask._ Vera thought defensively, then looked awkwardly out the window. “Vera?”

“I only have one set of day clothes.” She admitted. Tsuru wrinkled his nose.

“Eww.” 

“That’s not hygienic.” Emma agreed.   
“I wash them every night.” Brown eyes snapped, not looking back at them, “I’m not a barbarian.” 

“Your pyjama top is black, and I own a pair of black jeans.” Emma said. 

“I have a black jacket you could borrow.” Tsuru added.

“Perfect.” Emma said, hands on her hips, giving a triumphant nod. She turned to go get her jeans. 

“Wait,” Vera sighed, “my pyjamas are in the wash currently, and won’t be ready to be worn until this evening.” Emma stilled, looking back at Vera, then let out a groan. Tsuru shook his head. 

“You are seriously odd.” He muttered. 

“I only own what is necessary.” Vera defended herself. _No need to over indulge in luxuries._

“I’ll find my most subtle top.” Emma said at last, “It’ll have to do.” With that, she disappeared out of the dining room and up the stairs. Loud thumping steps announced her return a few moments later, now dressed in black jeans and a grey top. It was plain except for the white frills on the long sleeves. Tsuru shrugged.

“It’s subtle enough.” He resigned, hypocritically shrugging into his obnoxious red jacket as he made his way into the hallway and towards the door.   
Vera got up and followed after him, her black turtle neck and trousers would hopefully draw less attention than Tsuru’s get up. She pulled on her black beanie and stretched her hands back into the gloves. They left the grounds, Vera pausing to change the code on the gate before they left.

It took them a good hour and a half to walk to those distant, tall buildings glinting in the frosty light. None of them were the Library itself, rather they were the source of capital for West Bochardess. The towers housed the majority of the revenue – banks, businesses, and more – within them. Vera craned her neck to look up at the glass walls that seemed to rise into the clouds. She knew in the grand scheme of things they weren’t that tall, but the short buildings of Bochardess made the illusion of height all the more imposing. It was as if a threatening noise sounded in her mind every time she laid eyes upon them.   
The Library was just past the towers, nestled in a spot between a town house and a large, scenic garden. They had been right, two police officers had taped off the area and were patrolling the front. 

“Vera, you and Emma can sneak around the back through the gardens and look for your window in. When you’re ready give me a text and I’ll make a distraction.” Tsuru instructed, the breaths from the three of them misting in the cold. Vera gave a nod and she and Emma split away from him, walking casually towards the large garden. Emma had a big stupid grin on her face, her cheeks and nose flushed red from cold and adrenalin. 

“Can you act more natural?” Vera hissed under her breath as they entered the garden, the frosted grass snapping and cracking beneath their shoes. The space was filled with large willow trees, bushes with drooping flowers and patches of stubborn snow hiding dead or almost dead plants. Other trees dotted around, but, like the willow trees, most of their leaves were gone and their brown branches looked brittle. The thinner trees appeared to be shivering in the chilled wind.

“Sorry.” Emma murmured, trying her best to hide her smile. Vera couldn’t help a small edge of regret at telling her to stop. Emma’s smile was so far removed from her father – it was anything but unnatural. Trying to hide it was akin to smothering a flame, the cruel removal of warmth felt like a sin. 

“There.” Vera said suddenly, pointing towards the Library on their left, managing to draw her eyes away from the shorter girl. The building was tall with a white domed roof and red bricked walls. One of the many large, rectangular windows was slightly ajar, its lock hanging at an odd angle. Vera crouched low and snuck her way through the garden towards it, ducking behind bushes and tree trunks as they approached. There was a break between a long hedge and the window, between of which was an empty expanse of green grass with the occasional patches of melting white.   
There was no cover.   
Vera flicked out her phone and texted Tsuru to make a distraction. 

“I’ve got a bomb!” She heard someone yell the moment she hit send. Vera hung her head and let out a groan. _Really, Tsuru?_ But sure enough, the police rushed out to the scene, and away from the Library. 

“Let’s go.” Vera said with urgency, hopping the hedge and making her way quickly to the window. Emma stumbled over the obstacle and then scurried after her. Vera held the window open and let Emma slide in first, landing in a heap on the floor. Brown eyes followed with more precision. She gently let the window fall back into place, her gloved hands ensuring no fingerprints would be left. The window hadn’t been re-secured so Vera assumed the police hadn’t had time to locate the entry point. 

Vera turned around, ready to find the crime scene and inspect it, but she was stalled. She wasn’t religious, certainly, but if there was anything that might bring her upon the cusp of believing, this architectural space might be it. The outside of the building had been square, but the inside was very different. The walls rose and arched in flowing white lines, curving up and over there heads in the gargantuan space like giant waves. They gleamed and glinted in the sunlight, which bounded off them in glorious rays. Books sat in the arching walls in carved out slots, highlighted by the shining bright. Long reflective curtains hung from the ceiling creating a circular centre to the building in which the light seemed most intense. The dome above was dotted with circular coloured windows, allowing light to stream in, dappling the floor with patterns of petals and leaves in brilliant golds, greens and pinks. Outside it was winter, but the array of light and colour within made it feel like a warm, auburn autumn. 

“Wow.” Emma breathed. Her voice echoed off the walls and carried throughout the building as she slowly approached the centre circle. Vera’s mouth was open in awe, all she could do was nod in agreement. She took a few steps forward, her footsteps loud in the silence as she looked around at the dark oak chairs which sat next to the books. They had rich red leather cushions on them embroidered with golden thread. “I can see why this place is so popular.” Emma added.

“Mmm.” Vera agreed, still somewhat mesmerised. It was elegant, yes, but not cluttered. It still felt organised, simple. Then her eyes caught sight of a white sheet draped over two figures lying on the floor in the circular centre. “Here we go.” She walked over and tugged the sheet off of them. Two men, one with tan skin, the other sunken yellow, lay still on the floor. Two red flowers of blood had formed below them, solid against the white tiles, red against the gold, green and pink light. Vera knelt down, her eyes darting over them. 

“Which one is Mr Djan and which Mr Reaver?” Emma asked, coming to stand next to Vera. Brown eyes picked up the audible shake in Emma’s voice. She glanced up at the girl, who’s hands were shaking and face pale. Vera was to say some comforting words, but her voice caught in her throat as a second revelation hit her; how Emma looked. Her face was lit by the bright light, her green eyes more clear than they had ever been before. Her bronze skin glossed by the shine, soft and gentle. Her dark brown hair was tied back, allowing her features to take centre stage. Her long dark eyelashes, her fully formed lips, her cute nose. Vera felt her thoughts running away with themselves and desperately fought to get them under control.

“They’re just bodies.” She managed at last, her voice choked. Emma was looking at her in silence, as if she hadn’t heard. Her hands had stilled and her pupils were dilated. Vera wondered for the briefest of moments if she looked as nice in the lighting as Emma did. She felt a blush creep up her neck and thankfully Emma snapped out of her daze and gave a nod,

“Still, that someone would commit murder…” Emma murmured, “It disturbs me.” She admitted. Vera’s heart sunk, her eyes darting away from Emma as if the sight would blind them. _Of course._ She cursed herself, _‘Thou shalt not kill’._ Guilt grabbed at her heart and lungs and it took her a moment to recover. 

“What if they had no choice?” She asked, her voice was small. Emma looked stunned for a moment, she had no clue she was holding Vera in the palm of her hand.

“I didn’t mean that all murder was wrong I just… that someone could commit it so blatantly in such a sacred place as this, and for what seems to be for no good reason. The lack of regard for human life is detestable.” Emma paused, “I understand that sometimes one has to kill, sometimes one has no choice. It’s horrific when someone is put in that position. People who end up in those situations and muddle their way through are the bravest of us all. People who know the value of human life and still make those tough decisions are stronger than I could ever be. I just…” Emma gestured at the bodies, “Seeing it up close, these killings were clearly malicious.” She finished. It was as if Emma’s words had lifted something from Vera. Chains that had weighed her down, a guilt at the back of her head that refused to quiet, vanished. Vera rose to her feet, looking at Emma’s face lit so perfectly in the room. The small golden cross around her neck glittered gently in the light. Before she knew what was happening or what her body was doing her hand had found its way to Emma’s cheek, her thumb gently moving over the soft skin. Emma’s eyes snapped up at her in confusion, but she didn’t move away. Vera thought she might have imagined it but it felt as though Emma was welcoming it, smiling softly. Vera’s breath caught in her throat, it was as if all the air in her lungs had been extracted. She leant down towards Emma, her eyes drinking in the warm features, the kind eyes. 

Then the nausea hit. 

It surged up through her stomach like a tsunami, crashing around her intestines. It struck her over and over again as it grew in strength and Vera recoiled away from Emma, bending over and clutching her side. She fell to her knees and placed a hand on the floor, letting out a sudden gasp as pain clawed at every inch of her body. She was mildly aware of Emma moving towards her,

“Vera?” Her soft voice asked. The nausea slammed against Vera’s insides. She let out a long groan of pain, clenching her fist and banging it on the floor once.

“Stay back.” She struggled to say, her voice gruff. She heard Emma take a few paces away from her. The noise hurt almost as much as the sickness thrashing inside of her. 

“Vera, tell me what’s wrong?” Emma pleaded. Vera knew exactly what was wrong. _Me. I’m wrong._ She couldn’t believe what she’d almost done, what line she’d nearly crossed. The nausea was beginning to wane and she struggled to her feet, her face pale, her eyes sunken. 

“Let’s just look around.” She hissed, not daring to lay eyes on Emma, “Get this over with.” The lighting was more of an annoyance after that, needless illumination that stung her eyes. She looked over books, she looked at the floor, she examined the bodies closely. The clothes they were wearing, the style of their hair, but she couldn’t make sense of it. She couldn’t figure out who had committed the murder, or where they should look next.   
Emma walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder. Vera flinched as if her hand was made of hot metal. “Don’t touch me.” She hissed, recoiling back. Emma’s eyes looked confused and miserable, and they made Vera feel much the same. 

“Okay.” She said quietly, then, “I can’t find anything, maybe we should call it a day and go.” She suggested. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the front door to the Library burst open, and a police officer stalked in. Tsuru was right behind him,

“Wait!” The man said desperately, “I didn’t mean to be misleading, but it is a bomb ass, isn’t it?” He stopped after that. It was too late, the police officer had seen Vera and Emma. More importantly, Vera had recognised the police officer. _Conner._ It was the officer that had seen her before. In the blink of an eye the officer had pulled his gun out of its holder and pointed it at her. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked in surprise. Emma and Vera held up their hands, taking a step back. Another police officer, wearing a different uniform, entered. He looked of a higher rank. 

“Conner, what’s going on?” He asked, drawing his own gun uncertainly. 

“I don’t know.” Conner replied, looking Vera up and down, “But this is the girl that got away at the warehouse on Kelderr Street.” Tsuru looked at Vera with mild interest at that,

“What have you been up to naughty girl?” He asked teasingly. Vera glared at him. _Now is not the time._ Conner glanced over his shoulder at Tsuru,

“You were the distraction, weren’t you?” Tsuru nodded. Conner’s eyebrows furrowed, “You’re all so young.” He muttered to himself. He turned back to Vera, “What’s your name?” He asked. Vera shrugged. “Why are you here?”

“Just looking around.” She lied. Conner tilted his head disbelievingly,

“Just like how you were ‘looking around’ that drug filled warehouse.” He shot back. Emma abruptly turned her head towards Vera with a look. Brown Eyes didn’t want to turn to her to see what that look was. “What’s your name, kid?”

“I’m twenty years old.” She hissed. _Young, but legally a child no longer._

“Name.” Conner repeated. He was losing his patience. Vera let out a sigh,

“Vera Ivanova.” She relented. It was no use resisting. Conner turned his attention to Emma.

“And you?” He asked. Vera willed her to lie.

“Emma Chavez.” She answered. Vera internally cursed. She saw Tsuru’s face darken. This could go very bad, very quickly. The commanding officer lowered his gun. 

“Leave them be, Conner.” He said, holding a hand out to push the man’s gun down. Conner looked at him in confusion. 

“Why?”  
“That’s above your pay grade.” Was all he said. He nodded at Vera, “Go back home and wait there, he’ll be in touch.” Vera didn’t need to ask to know who he was. _Gortald._ She thought. _He really does have influence everywhere._ She lowered her arms and began to walk towards the exit, Emma following her at a distance. She walked past Conner, who briefly took hold of her arm, stopping her. 

“Kid, you’re in with the wrong crowd. Don’t do this.” He said in a low voice. She pulled her arm from his grasp and looked him up and down.

“Why do you care?” She sneered as she walked outside. Conner looked after her silently. Tsuru cast the commanding officer a suspicious glance but said nothing, joining Vera and Emma. They remained in silence until they were a few buildings away from the Library. 

“So you’re a druggy?” Tsuru smirked, “That explains so much.” Vera’s skin burned hot with rage and she turned on Tsuru, snarling,

“Back the hell off.” She hissed, giving him a shove. Tsuru looked stunned, allowing her to push him.

“Sorry.” He murmured, rebalancing himself. Vera glanced self-consciously at Emma and then looked away, sneering and letting out a sharp breath.

“Vera, are you okay?” Emma asked, concern written on her face. Vera repeated her earlier words.

“Why do you care?” Emma flinched. 

“What happened in there, you’re not acting normal.” Tsuru probed. Vera shot him a harsh look,

“We didn’t find anything, that’s what happened.” 

“And so you flip out and throw a tantrum?” Tsuru tilted his head, “What else happened?” Vera cast Emma an uncertain look, thinking that the shorter girl might talk about it, but Emma just shrugged,

“I’m as lost as you, Tsuru.” She answered bitterly. Vera lowered her gaze. It wasn’t Emma’s fault Vera was who she was, she shouldn’t punish her for it. This was something Brown eyes would have to control herself. Besides, Vera had made a promise to Emma, that she wouldn’t allow her to spend another day locked up, and now that they were heading back towards the cottage, it was time to commit to that promise.  
Emma and Tsuru made idle chat on the walk back, Vera remained silent, walking a few paces ahead, hands in her pockets, observing the streets around them. She was looking for an opportunity. Soon the forest was coming into view and Vera’s options were thinning. Then the trees engulfed them and a new idea crept into Vera’s mind. They reached the cottage’s entrance and Vera gestured at the side gate, 

“After you.” She said to Tsuru. He glanced at her suspiciously but went through anyway. 

“How good are you at running?” Vera murmured lowly to Emma, who startled and looked at her wide eyed. 

“I’m pretty fast.”

“Good.” Vera slammed the side gate closed behind Tsuru. She heard the click of the automatic lock. Tsuru stilled and turned around. His face was alarmed at first, then it relaxed as he walked back to the gate casually, 

“Nice try, but you’re not getting away that easily.” He muttered, entering ‘3662’ on the keypad to open it. A resonant beep sounded. _Wrong number._ Tsuru’s face fell.

“I changed it.” Vera smirked. Tsuru sprung into action, grabbing the gate’s bars and pulling himself upwards. “Go!” Vera instructed Emma, bursting into a run. Emma sprinted after the taller girl, and to Vera’s surprise kept pace with her. The sharp winter air filled her lungs as her feet crashed down onto the pavement, pushing her forwards. The repetitive thud of her shoes on the cement a steady rhythm to keep her going. They were out of the forest within a couple of minutes. Vera was going to continue running, but Emma grabbed her arm.

“In here.” She hissed urgently, pulling her behind a large dumpster bin next to a long building. Vera was about to ask her why, but the answer came in the form of a low rumble of a motorbike engine. 

“He guessed the code.” Vera murmured.

“What did you change it to?”

“8372.” Vera muttered guiltily. 

“Why?”

“I spells Vera.” Brown Eyes cringed at herself, but she’d only had a few moments to select a new code and she needed to be sure she’d remember it. The roar of the engine grew and Tsuru rushed past on his red motorbike, turning onto the road with a screech and driving off, his red jacket whipping up behind him. 

“Good luck finding us.” Emma snickered, then turned to Vera, her voice coiled with anticipation. “What are you gonna show me first?” Vera stalled, she hadn’t thought this far ahead. The cold district was out of the question, there was nothing of a nice sentiment to view there, and whilst West Bochardess admittedly had its gorgeous tourist attractions it didn’t have the soul of what the good in Bochardess was like. Vera furrowed her brow, thinking. 

“Where does John keep his car?”

 

Vera and Emma had made their way back to the cottage and Emma led Vera around to the back of the house. A large garage stood, tucked into the back of the building. It was shaded by a large willow tree and some foliage. Vera let out a breath, “I never would have known this was here.” She muttered. It became clear why it was positioned so secretively once Emma unlocked the garage. Two cars sat inside, both as fancy as each other. One had a shiny black exterior with leather seats and the smell of new-ness rolling off of it in waves, the other was more worn but just as impressive, with a mat blue colour and white and pink seats. It looked expensive, but equally ridiculous. 

“Blue one.” 

“Black one.” They said at once. Vera arched an eyebrow, “If you think I’m getting in that mess of blue and pink you have another thing coming.” She insisted. Emma pouted at her and folded her arms. 

Vera discovered that the blue car was particularly bad at handling as she drove it through the forest and onto the streets of Bochardess. Emma had convinced her with a mixture of annoying whines and pleas. “Alright, alright.” Vera had conceded. The keys had been kept in a box next to the cars. _Not very clever._ Vera had thought. The car journey was mainly silent as Emma was busy gawking out of the window at the passing world. Vera glanced at her, “You look like you’re on a theme park ride.” She commented. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was in a car.” Emma explained, “It’s amazing.” She breathed, green eyes darting over the scenery. She paused in her watching to turn to Vera, cocking her head, “Hey, when did your learn to drive?” She asked. Vera shuffled in her seat, tightening her grip on the wheel.

“Quite recently.” 

“Do you own a car?”

“No.”

“Why did you learn then?” Emma pushed. Vera squirmed in discomfort, glancing down at Emma and then back to the road. 

“It was part of my training.” She explained reluctantly. Emma looked confused. “Before I became your guard I was on some tough times. I helped somebody out, who turned out to be quite an important somebody. They offered me a favour in return for what I did, and it began with some training.”

“What kind of training?” Emma had turned to look back out of the window, but was still listening. 

“Basic stuff. Paying rent, driving a car.” Vera paused, “Combat skills. Picking locks.” Emma startled, her eyes narrowing,

“That sounds shifty.”

“I thought so at the time, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. Besides, it was heaps and bounds less shifty than what I’d done in the past.” Vera finished. Emma was silent. The low purr of the car filled the space between them as they moved swiftly through the streets. The roads were never too busy and the driving was easy. 

“What did you do in the past?” Emma asked, breaking the silence. Vera didn’t respond. Emma opened her mouth to repeat the question.

“I heard you.” Vera clarified, in case the shorter girl and been confused. Emma looked at Vera, tilting her head. She opened her mouth to say something more but Vera was having none of it. “Leave it.” Vera said coldly. Emma shut up and went back to watching the world pass by. 

They had been driving through West Bochardess and the houses had been flashy and large, modern builds with plenty of artificial features. The ground was flat and concrete and the skyline was plagued by tall skyscrapers clawing at the blue above like dead fingers reaching out of a grave. North Bochardess, where Vera was taking them, was completely different. Vera couldn’t help talking to Emma about it as the sizes of the buildings became more quaint, and the architecture more authentic and old. “Almost all of Bochardess has been ‘modernised’ in one way or another.” Vera said softly, turning the car down a small alley between one grey block of apartments and another. “It wasn’t always this way, but there was no money in it. So Bochardess changed itself, it threw away its heritage and burnt all the old traditions. They lay cement and concrete and rose towers from the ashes.” Vera stopped at some traffic lights, looking around herself at the jungle of grey. The colour was pleasing, the apartment blocks efficient, but the artificiality held menace. “The money poured in. People flocked to the newly built houses, the population more than tripled, and the monuments that had survived became a rarity, bringing wealthy tourists and their cash.” Emma looked at Vera in interest. “The heart of Bochardess had been cut out to save the rest, the city had joined the modern world.”   
The lights turned green and they pulled away. A smile graced Vera’s lips, “But North Bochardess was a different matter. Besides a few new roads and hospitals, North Bochardess was largely untouched. The majority of the housing remained small, old fashioned cottages.” Vera glanced at Emma, “Like the one you live in.” Vera turned onto a long, sloping road leading up a hill, bordered by houses on all sides. It curved from side to side on the gradient, and slowly the rest of Bochardess became small in the distance, and the buildings around them morphed from cemented walls to wooden panels. The smooth road beneath them turned to bumpy cobble.   
They continued climbing upwards for a few minutes, zig zagging with the road. Vera pulled the car to a stop in a small market square, the flashy car feeling very out of place. Surrounding them were cottages with thatched roofs, some dark brown, others light greys or creams. The walls of the buildings alternated between dark wooden brown and white. The streets were filled with stalls selling hot meats and chocolates, scarves and hats. Buntings were strung from one building to the next. “Despite its aesthetic benefits, North Bochardess was kept for one reason, and one reason alone. It’s market hauls in a lot of _dolch_.” 

“They kept it for its monetary value.” Emma gaped, “not for…” Emma gestured at the bustling city, “Not for this?” Her hand pointed at different things, the clustered buildings with children running between them, laughing as they kicked a football with worn out shoes. The steam rising from the street food into the air as the servers flipped and stirred it with confidence. Adults crowded in close groups, drinking local wine and chatting contentedly. Not a car or phone in sight, the most advanced things where the haphazardly placed, old fashioned satellite dishes clinging fearfully to the roofs of the cottages and the wires that messily ran between them. Vera gave a small nod. 

“Bochardess cares about one thing more than all else.” Brown eyes let out a breath, “Profit.”

“I’m not sure I’m too keen on Bochardess anymore.” Emma muttered. Vera turned her brown eyes on the shorter girl, 

“Don’t be mistaken. The only true Bochardian spirit can be found here.” Vera may not have been alive before Bochardess had undergone plastic surgery and become the heartless shell of a city it was now. But the place she’d been raised, in a cottage by the coast, was all she’d even needed to experience to know what a true Bochardian community and culture should be. “Everything down there,” Vera nodded down the slope, towards the rest of Bochardess, “Is a fake, a knock off. A cheap replication of what this country really is.” She turned her eyes back to Emma, “Don’t forget that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed the story so far please leave a kudos or a comment to let me know!


	10. Chapter 9

** Chapter 9 **

Vera exited the car and went around to the other side, helping Emma out. They were already collecting a few stares for the outlandish design of the vehicle, and for having a vehicle at all, but soon the looks ceased as Vera locked the car and they moved away from it. Emma’s eyes were filled with wonder as she darted from one trinket-filled stall to the next, and back again. 

“I only have a couple _dolch_ on me, so choose wisely.” Vera reminded her. Emma gave a nod, and then her gaze was caught by a salmon pink scarf hidden amounts a wealth of wooden boxes and quills. She rushed over to it and looked it over, mouth agape. It had stripes of grey and white in a zig-zag pattern that complimented the pink colour. The formation of the stripes seemed inspired by the tribal outfits Bochardian’s used to wear back in the early stages of its civilisation. 

“How much is it?” Emma asked the man running the stall. He was dressed in tattered overalls, splattered in paint, and was quite large. Besides the scarves, boxes and quills, his stall was packed with ornaments and good luck charms, each coloured in bright, cheerful patterns like the scarf. Golden half-suns on the end of silver chains dotted the stand. The man gave a shrug and smiled crooked teeth at Emma, 

“One smile.” He joked, then let out a strange, but merry, sounding laugh, “You don’t look from around here.” He added, pulling the scarf off of the rack and presenting it to Emma. Vera came to stand next to the shorter girl, silently watching the man with her hands in her pockets. Emma seemed overjoyed at the encounter. Vera supposed this was the most friendly initial interaction Emma had ever had with anyone. _I slammed a door in her face and Tsuru called her pathetic and dumb._

“No, I’m not, I’m from all the way over there.” Emma turned and pointed. North Bochardess was on a steep slope, and from the stall, you could peek over the many thatched roofs as they shifted into a sea of grey and joined with West Bochardess. The man looked taken aback, he’d clearly expected her to be a tourist from another country. Not many Bochardian’s had tan skin like Emma, especially in areas such as West Bochardess. “I live in a cottage in that forest.” Emma clarified. West Bochardess and South Bochardess were bordered by the woods. Looking down at it from the hill was eye-opening; it was far more vast than Vera had imagined. Emma stalled, having turned to look down towards her own home. Clearly she, too, was surprised by the size. _She’s never seen it from this far away._ It occurred to Vera with a shock, and another pang of pity rose within her. The trees stretched out all the way to the horizon, pine and oak, evergreen and deciduous, struggling upwards towards the sky, with only the odd clearings of buildings and fields corrupting the otherwise untamed forest. 

“Well, love, the scarf is ten _dolch_ if you’ll have it.” He smiled, holding it out to Emma, who had turned her attention back to the stall. The man had folded the scarf into a square and tied it in place with a pink bow. Emma’s face lit up. Vera pulled out some bronze coins and handed them to the man. “Thank you.” He gave a small bow of his head, handing Emma the scarf, “It’ll look lovely on you.” He added. Emma beamed,

“You’re too kind, thank you.”

“Check out my buddy Callim’s food stand over there if you’re peckish, his _jelaple_ is fantastic.” He suggested, pointing a chubby hand at a stall not far from them, surrounded by a thick steam and hungry crowd. 

“We will.” Emma smiled, then trotted happily to another stand. Vera regarded the man silently, not sure what to say, then followed after Emma without a word. The girl was looking at some pencils carved into the shape of goats. 

“I have no more _dolch_.” Vera explained. Emma gave a nod, not looking away from the stall.

“I know, but it’s fun to look.” She turned to Vera as they walked on to another stall. The crowd had been manageable before, but as they trekked further into the market more and more people began to bump into Vera. The centre of North Bochardess was notoriously cramped during market hours. Brown eyes kept her hands safely in her pockets and took in deep breaths, trying her best to remain calm. One man bumped against her shoulder, nearly knocking Vera over. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her, not letting go as he asked,

“You alright there?” 

“Fine.” Vera said through gritted teeth, pulling away from the man. She hit a woman’s back and tried to move forward to cease the contact, but the man was blocking her way. 

“My bad.” He apologised. 

“It’s fine.” She hissed. At least in the cold district people kept to themselves. She turned to Emma,

“Mind if we head back to where it’s less crowded?” She asked above the buzz of voices, faking a calm exterior when all she wanted to do was punch out until everyone was a meter away from her.

“I want to look around more.” Emma protested. Vera furrowed her brow,

“Please.” She said desperately, her calm facade straining. Emma looked stunned, Vera supposed she’d never said please to her before. 

“Okay.” Emma mumbled, sounding disappointed, but walked with Vera towards the less crowded place all the same. “What’s _jelaple_?” Emma asked, the mass of people surrounding them beginning to thin. Vera let out a breath,

“It’s a traditional Bochardian street food.”

“Great, but what is it?” She repeated. Vera shrugged,

“I think it’s some sort of pancake wrapped around sugar coated, roasted fruit.” Vera noticed the look of excitement flash over Emma’s face and felt a warmth of happiness, unable to resist adding, “Sometimes there’s chocolate in it, too.” 

“Can we get some?”

“I don’t have any money.” Vera explained as they casually moved back towards where they had parked. Vera stopped in her tracks as she saw what was next to the blue car. 

A red motorbike. 

“I do.” Tsuru said from behind them, tossing a ten _dolch_ coin up and down casually before pocketing it. Vera whirled around in shock, arms raised, fist’s clenched. Emma was just as startled. A football was kicked between them and a small, barefooted boy ran and grabbed it. He paused and looked up at them, 

“Sorry!” He exclaimed, scuttling off. Vera turned to make a dash for it, but Tsuru grabbed her arm and stopped her. Vera flinched at the contact and snatched her arm away. 

“Don’t touch me!” She shouted, her eyes narrowed to slits, her teeth bared. The market stilled, people turned to stare, Vera self-consciously rubbed her arm. 

“Nothing to see here.” Tsuru hissed at the crowd, who continued on their way. He turned back to Vera. “We’re heading back. Now.” Was all he said. Emma whined in protest.

“But-”

“I said now.” Tsuru snarled. Vera glared at him but knew it was no use. She walked to the car in resignation, getting in the driver's seat. Emma got in herself and buckled her seatbelt, folding her arms. 

“I’m sorry.” Vera murmured, looking away from her. Emma was silent for a moment, then,

“What for?” Vera looked at Emma in surprise. She was smiling weakly at her. “I’ve never seen anything like this, and I never would have if you hadn’t tried to show me.” Vera looked down at her, the way her face was shaped, how her eyes were so bright and her hair so dark, and had to look away. 

“Whatever.” She grumbled. Tsuru had taken his time, and finally got onto his motorbike, a brown paper bag held underneath his right arm. _What did he buy?_ Vera wondered in indignation. The hypocrisy of it was infuriating. Vera rolled down her window. “Lead on, oh great one.” She hissed in anger. Tsuru glared down at her, revving his bike, 

“Don’t try any funny business, follow me straight back to the cottage.” He snapped back, then began to drive. Vera put the window up and got the car into motion, following closely after Tsuru. 

“I could just ram him.” Vera muttered. Emma laughed and Vera cast her a confused look, “What’s funny?”

“You.” Was all Emma said. The drive back wasn’t as silent as the drive there. Emma was buzzing with what she’d seen, and despite the initial silence from the shock of being found so suddenly by Tsuru, eventually Emma couldn’t hold her curiosity back anymore and kept asking Vera questions about Bochardess. Finally, Vera gave in,

“Look, I don’t know everything there is to know about Bochardess, I can only answer so much.” She admitted. Emma shrugged,

“Sorry, I guess I’m just eager now that I can finally find out about where I live.” She admitted. Vera couldn’t help but speak what she’d been thinking since they got back in the car.

“How can you be so okay going back to your home?” She asked, “Knowing you might not be allowed to leave again?” Vera felt bad for her words, but she needed to know. It took Emma a moment to respond. 

“Even if I’m stuck there, it’s still my home.” She pointed out. Vera didn’t feel very convinced. 

“It’s your prison.” 

“Can’t it be both?” Emma responded weakly. Vera looked at her, then back at the road. She knew exactly what Emma meant. Images of grey walls and trays of food flashed in Vera’s mind and she had to make a concentrated effort to push them away, the worst time to go into a panic was while driving. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she felt ghostly restraints gripping around her arms, familiar noises of popping and scraping filled her ears, and the taste of jam gracing her tongue. 

“Emma.” She gasped out, her fear having swarmed to an unmanageable level, her head shifting in on itself as a wave of nausea hit her. Emma sat up straight in her seat, sensing Vera’s discomfort. 

“Vera?” She asked, “What’s going on?” Vera slowed the car, squinting her eyes in an attempt to stay focussed. 

“Talk to me…” She managed, her vision blurring. The road began to move up and down, side to side, and Brown Eyes knew this was a very bad situation indeed. Vera’s heart was pounding in her head. 

“What about?” Vera couldn’t respond, it was as if her breath had been stolen from her. She was no longer in the car. She was strapped down to a chair, a screen in front of her, playing images while fluids burned through her veins. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears pricked her eyes, her body was being dragged under water into this hallucination. She’d never experienced any panic as bad as this. Then a voice drifted in,

“I suppose I preferred the violin because it looks nice.” Someone babbled on, rushing over their words in urgency, “I mean it has the letter ‘F’ on it, and I thought that was funny because a rude word in English begins with ‘F’. Silly, I know.” And then the voice laughed, it was a light, nervous laugh. But it was a laugh of such disposition that Vera found herself back in the car, her vision blurred, but her breath evening. “Umm, I don’t know, I guess my favourite blade of grass in the garden has to be the one next to the third bush on the right as you enter. Something about it feels rebellious.” Vera let out a laugh, feeling herself again. _Bizarre._

“You have a favourite blade of grass?” She scoffed, turning right onto the next road with ease, her shaking hand gripping the wheel, for the most part under her control.

“You don’t?” Emma retorted defensively, then, “I noticed it one morning, it was a different colour ‘cause I dropped some paint on it.” 

“What were you doing with paint?” Vera turned the car into the forest, Tsuru just ahead of them. He hadn’t seemed to notice the minor crisis in the vehicle behind. 

“I was trying to draw a large rectangle on the grass to play a game on, but it didn’t go too well.” Vera cast Emma a questioning glance as she turned the car onto the cottages’ driveway, the gravel protesting under the tires, and brought it to a stop. Her panic was almost entirely forgotten as she listened to Emma’s ridiculous story, a look of bemusement settled onto her features. “Looking back on it I’m not sure you’re meant to use paint and a paintbrush. And I didn’t have any rulers so the lines weren’t all that straight.” Emma cringed. 

“Like you two, then.” Tsuru huffed, swinging one of the doors open. He had left his motorbike parked on the other side of the driveway. Vera’s gaze snapped up at him with a cold expression, anger swelling in her belly. Emma looked away sheepishly. “Don’t let my teasing fool you.” Tsuru continued, stepping back as they got out and locked the car, “I’m still very much pissed off.” Vera was about to retort when a large shouting noise came from the cottage. It took the three of them a moment to notice an extra car in the driveway, their eyes collectively sliding over to it, taking the third vehicle, and what it entailed, in. Vera looked at Tsuru in surprise, who looked back, just as shocked. 

“Gortald.” They said in unison. His car was unmistakable, except this time there were scuff marks all over it, and what seemed to be an array of small impact zones where, Vera presumed, bullets had collided with the sleek surface. 

“Who?” Emma asked. They ignored her and walked with urgency towards the house. The front door was already opened, and the noise of two men arguing wafted out to them. Vera entered in a hurry, Tsuru and Emma close behind her. 

“They are not to go anywhere near this, Olivech.” Silence, “Are you listening?”

“I’m in charge here, John, so-”

“Last I checked you’d gone to ground and left the rest of us out to dry. I had to shoot my way back here-”

“We’ve all had to shoot our way to safety.” The other voice cut in.

“-If you think your words hold any sway over me anymore, you’re sorely mistaken.” _John and Gortald._ Vera recognised their voices, hovering by the dining room double doors, not wanting to enter just yet. Tsuru seemed just as keen to listen in. He raised a finger to his lips and Vera responded with an unimpressed look. _As if I’d be stupid enough to make a noise._ She thought indignantly. _You were stupid enough to get drunk on the first night._ Tsuru’s voice responded smartly in her head. I’m spending too much time with this freak. Vera added to herself, turning her attention back to the argument beyond the double doors. “They are to stop their silly investigations and stay here, where it is safe.” John hissed. Guilt crawled up inside Vera and she glanced back at Tsuru, but the man's face was unreadable. He didn’t look back at her. “Imagine what would have happened if the rebellion had found me and I didn’t have Emma hidden away somewhere. There would have been nothing stopping the rebellion from killing me there and then.” Vera puzzled at John’s words, but Gortald just continued the conversation. 

“We are low on men, John, I need everyone if we are to stand any chance of survival, which means I need both Tsuru and Vera to do what they can.”  
“But this has nothing to do with stopping the rebellion, this pointless investigating leads to fruitless outcomes. Come to your senses, Gortald.” Gortald didn’t respond. “Gortald? Come back here when I’m talking to you!” Gortald threw the dining room doors open abruptly and looked out at the shocked Vera and Tsuru standing in the hallway. There was a long pause.

“Hi.” Vera said at last, as casually as the situation would allow. Gortald’s face was grim.

“Do come in.” He said sarcastically, taking a few steps back. He was as immaculately dressed, as always. John stood at the other side of the room, face red. Vera was still for a few moments, then forced her legs to carry her into the room. John’s gaze was fixed on Tsuru.

“Where were you?” John asked coldly. Tsuru held his head high and narrowed his eyes, 

“Collecting valuable information.” He explained. John’s face broke into a taunting smile.

“Do tell me this valuable information.” He challenged. Tsuru was silent and Vera cast him a confused look that he ignored. “Didn’t think so.” John clasped his hands behind his back, “You’re not detectives, please stop acting like it.”

“They were unlucky.” Gortald cut in, “But if they continue to look into the matter more might reveal itself.”

“It might, but they won't.” John hissed, “I forbid it. They are to stay here where Emma will be safe.” Anger stormed inside Vera. Anger that this man, who’d already stolen thirteen of Emma’s youthful years, would stand here and try to steal more.

“She will do no such thing.” Vera hissed. Eyes snapped onto her, her voice a surprising appearance in the discussion. John looked furious, like an owl who’d had his feathers brushed the wrong way.

“Is this druggy really trying to tell me how to take care of my own child?” John bit at Gortald as if Vera herself wasn’t worth his address. “Do get your dog under control.” Vera felt as if her throat had been taken from her, all her words squashed before they could be spoken. She’d been called a dog many times before, in rather awful situations. Clenching her jaw, Vera tried to compose herself. 

“What if Emma doesn’t want to stay locked up in here?” 

“Who are you to speak for her?” John bellowed, at last turning his eyes to her. Vera wished he hadn’t. 

“She can speak for herself.” Vera continued in spite of her rising apprehension, her fury pushing her on.

“And yet she doesn’t.”

“Who are _you_ to speak for _her_?” She spat back. 

“Her father.” John turned his gaze on Emma, “Emma, come here.” Vera was disgusted.

“Leave her alone.”

“ _Emma._ ” He repeated. Emma didn't hesitate. Head lowered, she walked over to his side. John turned a smug look on Vera. “She stays here. Isn't that right, sweetheart?” John asked, towering over the girl. Emma nodded her head feebly. 

“Of course, father.”

“Anything to say to me, darling?” 

“I’m sorry for leaving the cottage.” She murmured. Vera clenched her jaw, Tsuru narrowed his eyes. Vera was about to protest, but John shot a glare at her. 

“You’ll keep your mouth shut or you’re out.” He hissed, baring his white teeth. “I’ve been incredibly accommodating as it is.” Vera let out a low growl of frustration but remained quiet. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Emma, huddled at John’s side, head bowed, hands neatly clasping in front of her like some kind of servant. All her unbridled childish glee was on a leash, quelled on command. It was sickening to watch. 

“Fine, keep them locked up like dogs.” Gortald sighed, “But I need men, John, so you better be there within an hour. There’s a war to fight, plans to be made.” Gortald turned and walked past Vera and Tsuru to the door. 

“If you think I'm leaving you to guide this ship alone you must be mad.” John called after him. “You've driven us into the ground and I'll be damned if you dig our grave, too.” Gortald stopped walking for a moment, his shoulders tensed. It seemed as if he were about to bite back at John, but he seemed to think better of it, and continued outside. Tsuru leant towards Vera and murmured quietly, 

“Go after him.” Then he walked towards John. “John, how can I ensure they don't get out again?” Tsuru began, babbling on, walking around John and forcing his gaze away from Vera. Brown eyes slipped out into the hallway and after Gortald. 

“Gortald!” She hissed, walking out onto the driveway after him. He was already stopped and glanced at his watch.

“You’re late.” Was all he said. Vera let a sharp breath out of her nose, he was insufferable. “How’s the job been?”

“What’s going on Gortald, where have you been?” 

“There was an attack, Vera, a coordinated attempt at a hostile take over.” He straightened his tie, “I’m in the process of damage control, it's kept me rather occupied.” 

“Well, we have a body that needs dealing with.” She said simply. Gortald waved a hand dismissively, 

“Already dealt with.” He said. Vera glanced over the grounds to where they had left the body. Nothing was there.

“When?” She asked in confusion. 

“About half an hour ago. I managed to get some breathing room and set to sorting some errands while I had the chance.” He took a step closer, his posture changed, his eyes darkened, “You are no dog anymore, Vera, do not allow yourself to be locked in.” Vera's eyes widened, 

“But John-”

“Is lying to you. Vera, can you not see the snake amongst the doves?” Vera scoffed,

“Not when all the doves hiss and slither on their bellies.” She shot back. Gortald fixed her with a harsh look,

“Keep looking.” He said, “Find answers.” 

“Why can't you just tell me what you really mean?” She hissed. 

“A million eyes are on me. My movements must be highly calculated, and so there are things I cannot do.” He poked a finger at her chest, “That's where you come in, you must do what I am unable.” 

“You are making no sense.” She grumbled. Gortald straightened, examined her. 

“Follow the path I've laid for you. It is how I pay my favour.” Vera didn't respond, she was sick of his ambiguity. She was sick of this job. Gortald either didn’t notice her discontent or didn’t care. He gave a nod of his head and turned, getting into his car. The chauffeur was gone, and the man had to drive himself away. Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath. She turned and headed back into the cottage. 

“Where did she go?” She heard John ask. She slipped back into the sitting room.

“I'm right here.” She said innocently. John turned to her and shook his head.

“For such a loud mouth you sure can be quiet.” He turned to Tsuru, “Get my car ready.” He instructed as if Tsuru was his slave. Tsuru gestured outside, 

“It awaits you, sir.” He said. John gave a nod, 

“I'll be on my way, then.” He walked out into the hallway, “Tsuru, keep them here.” Tsuru glared at Vera and then Emma, fixing them with silencing looks.

“Don't worry.” He called back, “They won't fool me again.” Vera’s stomach sank. John slammed the door and a few moments later his car roared down the road and away. Vera let out a breath, 

“John is lying to us, you can't just sit here and do nothing.” She pleaded. Tsuru rolled his eyes,

“Wow. John is lying to us?” He faked surprise, “Good job, I think I have a dog treat somewhere.” Vera was taken aback, and also a little annoyed at how many times she’d been called a dog within the last few minutes. “Of course John has been lying to us. He's been lying from the start.”

“But I thought…” Vera trailed off, confused. 

“Does the man look like the type to be honest?” Tsuru asked. Then to Emma, “No offence.” Emma was quiet, looking down at the floor.

“No.” Vera said simply. 

“He thinks I'm going to keep you locked up here, chained to this cottage, but he is sorely mistaken.” Tsuru picked up the brown paper bag he'd gotten from the market. He pulled three small packages out of it, handing one to Vera and another to Emma, keeping one for himself. “You were right.” He said softly to Vera, then looked at Emma, “She can't stay trapped here any longer.” Emma's face lifted as she unwrapped a warm _jelaple._ She smiled and took a bite, letting out a groan of happiness her demeanour back to normal. It was as if John had never been here, had never lorded his power over the girl. 

“It's so good.” She mumbled around the food, taking another bite. Vera looked at Tsuru sceptically. 

“You changed your mind, just like that?”

“It's not a complete one eighty, I never trusted John to begin with, I just needed the money.” He shrugged, “I have a reputation as a man who gets the job done, no questions asked. It's hard to break free from that.”

“What do you call this then?” Emma asked, taking another mouthful of warm pancake and apple. 

“Asking questions.” 

“Why?” Vera pushed. She couldn't understand what was motivating Tsuru to go against John all of a sudden. Tsuru shuffled awkwardly, opening his mouth to offer a reason. Emma beat him to it. 

“He likes us.” She breathed.

“Oh, do shut up.” Tsuru hissed, folding his arms like a child. Emma finished her _jelaple_ and moved out to the hallway, licking her fingers clean. 

“My mistake, I just thought that buying someone food was a sign of friendship.” She teased, then retreated up the stairs before Tsuru could protest. He turned in frustration to Vera, who took a bite of her own _jelaple_ and raised her eyebrows at him. Then, covering her mouth with her hand,

“She has a point.”

“Vera, listen, I-” Tsuru cut himself off, clearly struggling with something. He lowered his voice. “The way John ordered her around, the way she just _obeyed._ This is something I cannot simply stand by and watch.” He turned his brown eyes on her, filled with pain, “Do you understand?” Vera gave a solemn nod. 

“Tsuru, I know first hand what it is like to be controlled. I need no convincing.” Tsuru seemed comforted by that.

“Good. Tomorrow we'll make a plan - we'll find out why Emma is a target, and what the hell is really going on with John.” Vera nodded in agreement. 

“And what the hell Gortald was on about.” She added. Tsuru took out his own _jelaple_ and sniffed it. He crinkled his nose,

“How much sugar is on this?” He hissed. Vera smirked in amusement, 

“Bochardess does not know the meaning of subtle flavours.” She explained, then took another bite of her own. Despite the sharp _Bochardian flourish_ to the flavours, the sugar was starting to taste good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story let me know by leaving Kudos and/or comments!


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Vera had forced herself out of bed, waking moments before her alarm sounded, her morning ritual fulfilled. She’d washed, dressed and opened her jam jar a few times before descending to the sitting room. Her sleep had been short and troubled, but she couldn’t recall why. Entering the sitting room, Vera couldn’t help being impressed once more by the decor. In the lush morning light that graced dark oak surfaces and cream coloured carpets, the room felt bathed in warmth. Vera noticed cereal and almond milk were laid out on the table by the bay window, Tsuru sitting on the chair furthest from the door. On the chair Vera usually sat in. She paused and looked him up and down. 

“What?” Tsuru asked, finishing his cereal. 

“I usually sit there.” She explained matter-of-factly. Tsuru rolled his eyes,

“You’re weird.” He grumbled but swapped over to the seat on the other side without any more complaints. Vera sat down, stretched, and reached not for a bowl, but for some paper and a pen. 

“Let’s work out what we know, and where to go from there.” She said. Tsuru raised an eyebrow at her, then looked pointedly at the paper. Vera glanced down and flushed in embarrassment, Tsuru had already made such a list. “Oh.” She mumbled, then read through it hurriedly. 

_What we know:_  
1\. The rebellion tried to kidnap, not kill, Emma  
2\. They attacked the Library and police base to distract the society  
What we don’t know:  
1\. Who ‘the rebellion’ are  
2\. Why they want Emma  
Plan: 

It was blank after ‘plan’. Vera looked up at Tsuru, “I suppose we’re forming a plan, then?”

“Yes.” Tsuru opened his mouth to begin explaining, his condescending tone already potent even before his words had formed. Vera cut him off.

“I hope you’re plan is to wait for Emma to join us before we begin?” She asked. Tsuru stalled, then rubbed the back of his neck nervously, 

“Yeah, totally.” He lied awkwardly. Vera arched an eyebrow at him. Luckily, Tsuru was saved by the thudding sound of Emma descending the stairs. 

“Morning.” She said brightly as she entered the dining room, wearing a pink night gown. The thin straps going over her shoulders had small, dainty bows on them. Vera averted her eyes. 

“Good morning.” Brown Eyes responded. “Take a seat when you’re ready.” Emma grabbed a stool and came to sit next to them. Vera handed her the list.

“What’s this?” The shorter girl asked, piling a mountain of cereal into her bowl and dousing it in milk.

“A rough outline of what we know.” Tsuru’s eyes darkened, “And what we don’t.” Emma scanned it over, raising a spoonful of breakfast to her mouth and chewing it thoughtfully. She swallowed.

“Okay, so what's the plan?” She asked. Vera shrugged,

“That's what we're going to decide.” She took the paper back from Emma and looked it over, “Gortald said a few things to me yesterday.” Tsuru looked at her in interest, “He said to keep looking for answers, to go against John’s word and… He said a lot about being unable to act himself, and needing me to act on his behalf.” 

“Well.” Tsuru said, leaning back, “Let’s start with the obvious deductions, shall we?” He asked, turning his gaze from Emma to Vera. They looked back blankly. Tsuru raised his eyebrows, “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Tsuru began counting off of his fingers, “Why Gortald’s preoccupation coincided with Emma’s attempted kidnapping, why his car had bullet marks, why John was listed as a key player?” Emma tilted her head to the side,

“Wait…” The girl murmured. Vera’s eyes narrowed she mentally shifted through information.

“Marcai said that he was part of the rebellion and that they were fighting against the… the…” Vera couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said. 

“The society.” Emma cut in, “He said they were trying to dismantle the group. He said John was a key player in that group.”

“So that means…” Vera trailed off again. Emma looked at her, her face paling. 

“My father is part of the society.” She breathed. Tsuru clapped his hands.

“I’m gonna run out of dog treats at this rate.” He applauded. “Watching you two work is amusing, really, but time is short.” Vera glared at Tsuru, but the man continued regardless, “It’s just a guess, but it would make sense if John and Gortald were high-ups in the society. If the rebellion wants to dismantle the society, what better first step than to take one of the key players’ daughters hostage?” Vera let out a groan and put her head in her hands. Tsuru and Emma looked at her in surprise. 

“Are you okay?” Emma asked. Vera looked up at the girl. 

“ _The society versus the rebellion_.” She said simply, “We’ve got ourselves caught up in a civil war.” She looked spitefully at Tsuru, “That didn’t occur to you, did it.” She hissed. Tsuru’s eyes darkened in worry. 

“Hm.” He murmured in agreement. “Not good.” Emma looked between them.

“I don’t get it.” Somehow, her naïveté didn’t annoy Vera, it was almost refreshing that the girl’s mind had trouble comprehending the oncoming violence. 

“If the society and the rebellion are what we’ve been told they are, two powerful groups with deep and distinct ideological views, with men and women hidden throughout Bochardess and the rest of the country, then the clash between them could rip this city, and us, apart.” She explained, sitting back up, taking a deep breath to calm herself at this new revelation. _Some favour, Gortald._ Vera thought bitterly, _I save your life, and you make me a soldier._

“Groups disagree all the time, as long as we keep Emma safe we can avoid the worst of it.” Tsuru cut into Vera’s thoughts. Brown eyes looked sceptically at him.

“It’s unlikely.”

“Wait a minute.” Emma paused, folding her arms and furrowing her eyebrows, “This doesn’t add up. If they wanted to kidnap me and use me as a bargaining tool, why would they try to kill the one person who would bargain for me; my father?” Vera and Tsuru turned to her slowly. Emma looked between them, “Remember? Marcai said that they tried to kill key players, one of them being my father. That makes no sense if their goal is to hold me ransom.”

“We remember.” Tsuru muttered, “We just hadn’t realised.”

“So we’re back to square one, we don’t know why they want to kidnap Emma.” Vera groaned, “This is going great.” Vera slumped defeatedly in her chair, looking out the window she felt a pang of regret. How had she ended up here, dragged into some strange war? Her eyes trailed over the patches of snow and green grass outside as the reality of her situation settled forebodingly around her, cementing her place in this dangerous affair. 

For not the first time, Vera found herself wishing to go back to before her life had taken a turn for the worse. She missed her family, she missed her childhood. The hour long walk to get to school through fields and farms and villages. The merry greetings of all the people she’d used to know. Vera narrowed her eyes. _No. I don’t miss my family._ She corrected herself stubbornly, _I miss only my brother._ Vera’s eyes widened, she straightened in her chair as a thought occurred to her. “A brother…” She trailed off, “Or a sister, or an aunt, or a cousin or… something!” She turned to Tsuru and Emma, “They want to kidnap her because someone in the rebellion knows her. This has to be personal.” 

“Personal? Why?” Tsuru arched an eyebrow at her. 

“They used the least damaging drug to try to knock her out, they didn’t want her harmed.”

“That could be because a healthy hostage is worth more, not because some aunt cares about her niece’s health.” Tsuru pointed out. Vera hissed, 

“True, but it’s the best lead we have.” Emma pushed away from the table and stood up, turning around and walking a few paces away. Vera looked after her. “Emma?”

“You think I have more family?” She asked quietly. Vera gave a slow nod, then realised Emma was turned the other way and couldn't see the action. 

“It’s possible.” She murmured softly, only just realising how this possibility might make the shorter girl feel. Emma’s shoulders shuddered and her hands went to cover her mouth. Vera wasn’t sure if she was laughing or sobbing. It could have been both. Tsuru stood up quietly and made his way towards the hallway. 

“Let’s give her some time alone.” He suggested in a low voice. Vera shot him a warning look.

“She’s had her whole life for that.” She snapped back with unnecessary anger. She got up and walked over to Emma, grabbing her shoulders and turning her around to face her. Emma’s eyes were damp and her mouth hung open. Vera leant down so she was looking directly into her eyes. 

“Emma, we’ll find them and we’ll sort this out, whether they have hostile or friendly intentions. Whether they are family or not.” She said. “Okay?” Emma had been looking silently past Vera, but she pulled her green eyes to look up at her, closed her mouth tightly, and gave a nod. 

“Okay.” 

“You two done?” Tsuru asked in exasperation. Vera let go of Emma quickly, as if the girl were burning metal, and took a few paces back. Tsuru looked at Vera. “Where could we find her family tree?” 

“The Library of Definitive Arts.” Brown Eyes answered grimly. Tsuru let out a breath, deflating.

“Let’s hope they’re open again then.” He muttered. “I’ll drive there and check, you two stay here. What name am I looking for?” He turned to Emma.

“Emma Chavez.” She answered. 

“No middle name?”  
“No.” Emma shook her head. Tsuru tutted in frustration, 

“Well, it’s not a common Bochardian name, so maybe we’ll be in luck.” He gave his head a nod, “I’ll be back in an hour or so, don’t burn the place down.” Tsuru turned and left, pulling the door closed with a loud slam. A few moments later the sound of his motorbike screeching down the drive sounded. 

“What do you think he’ll find?” Emma asked. Vera shrugged, feeling exhaustion pull at her bones. She’d slept for a long time but it hadn’t done much for her energy. Brown Eyes couldn’t help feeling worn down.

“I don’t know.” Vera went over to the cream coloured couch and sat down, folding her arms and getting herself comfortable in the warm space of the room. There were no good reading materials in the house, or any other form of entertainment that Vera cared for, so she’d simply wait for Tsuru’s return. She allowed her eyes to close.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked. 

“So many questions.” Vera mumbled, then, “I’m having a nap.” Emma was silent. She shuffled awkwardly, shifted from one foot to another. Cleary, she had something she wanted to say. Vera let out a long, tired sigh and opened one eye, casting Emma an impatient sideways glance. “What.”

“I’m pretty tired, too.” Emma murmured, taking a tentative step towards the couch. Vera stalled, her heart rate jittering just enough to annoy herself at her own reaction. 

“Then you can also take a nap.” She said coldly after a short pause. She opened her other eye and saw Emma looking at her, unamused. Vera’s heart was burning in her chest with an uncomfortable yet pleasantly dizzying feeling. “We both just had a nights sleep, and yet we are both tired.” 

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” Emma confessed. There was a silence as Vera processed Emma’s words. Eventually, like a grumpy bear woken from hibernation, Vera huffed and moved over, leaving space for Emma on the couch, and closed her eyes again, settling down into the soft cushions. 

“Me either.” Vera grumbled. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Emma was smiling as the smaller girl crawled onto the couch next to her and lay her head on her shoulder. She was warm, soft, and her body fit so well with hers, leaning against her side like a jigsaw piece finding its place. Her breath smoothed over the bare skin of Vera’s neck. For a blissful moment Vera never wanted to move again, never wanted this warmth and comfort to leave her side, never wanted this ray of light to stop filling her skin with gentle heat. 

But then she felt that feeling of nausea climbing its way up her back. She was prepared this time, taking a long, deep breath to fight it. It sat there, waiting to consume Vera, a gaping abyss of sickness below her. Emma let out a small, contented noise as she settled herself; and the nausea exploded in Vera’s stomach. Brown Eyes lurched to her feet, pushing herself away from the couch and away from Emma. “I’m sorry.” She muttered in shame, unable to look the girl in the eye. Emma looked up at her in confusion but just shrugged, 

“That’s okay.” Was all she said before curling up and grabbing a cushion, laying her head atop of it, seemingly oblivious to Vera’s panicked state. Vera eagerly retreated up to her bedroom. 

She remained there, holding her jam jar in her hands, absent-mindedly opening and closing it. Vera had emptied the jam from it long ago, it was of no use to her. It was the jar itself that soothed her raised hackles. She hated waiting for Tsuru to return, she hated knowing that Emma was just downstairs, sleeping peacefully.   
Alone.   
All that softness, all that warmth. A bundle of gentle murmurs and silky dark hair, left so far away from her. It was excruciating to keep her distance but, in Vera’s mind, entirely necessary.

After what felt like hours, at last Vera heard the noise of Tsuru’s motorbike entering the estate. She put her jam jar in her bedside table and headed down stairs. Emma must have heard it too, as she was standing by the front door, holding it open and looking outside, her pink night gown gushing around her legs in the breeze. Tsuru pulled his bike to a stop and swung his leg over, kicking out the stabiliser to keep the bike upright in a motion that was far too dramatic. His face was grim as he walked towards the house. 

“Closed?” Emma asked as he walked inside, pulling off his black boots as he went, hopping from one foot to the other. 

“No, they were open.”

“Problem?” Vera asked. Tsuru nodded, messily chucking his boots in the general direction of the shoe rack.

“The documents were missing.” Tsuru fixed them with a serious look, “Someone took them.” Vera and Emma stalled, then glanced at each other in worry. 

“When?” Vera pushed, taking a step towards Tsuru. 

“Yesterday.” He answered. Vera shook her head,

“Someone else is sniffing around the same place as us.” She muttered, folding her arms and pacing from left to right. “I don’t like it.” 

“Who took them?” Emma cut in, closing the front door. Tsuru looked at her and tilted his head mockingly, making air quotes with his hands. 

“The Library holds the privacy of its customers to a _high_ standard.” Tsuru spat. It sounded as if he was imitating the receptionist who had been working there. Vera let out a groan, 

“So, we don’t have the family tree, and we don’t have any leads. We don’t even know who took the documents.”

“I never said that.” Tsuru scoffed indignantly, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was ripped down the side as if someone had hurriedly torn it from a book. 

“Tsuru!” Emma gasped, “Did you steal this?”

“No.” He pouted. Emma looked up at him in annoyance. “I borrowed it.” 

“Whatever, who took them?” Vera asked. Emma was going to have to get over her aversion to stealing if she wanted those documents. Emma looked down at the page and scanned over it. 

“Conner Leslie Gowon?” Emma looked up at Vera. The taller girl froze, her heart stalling for a second as she registered the name and made a connection. Brown eyes’ furrowed her eyebrows as a suitable amount of dread settled in her stomach. 

“Conner?” She checked, not sure to believe it. Emma nodded. Vera turned to Tsuru, “The police officer who tried to arrest us at the Library?” _And who tried to arrest just me at the warehouse._

“Him?” Emma startled, making the connection herself. Tsuru looked just as shocked, also catching on. 

“What does he have to do with all this?” He pondered, looking back down at the paper in a new light. Vera grabbed her jacket from the coat rack, pulling it on. 

“Let’s go find out.” 

“Um, Vera?” Tsuru called after her as she opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch, “We don’t know where he lives, and Emma’s not dressed.” He paused, then, quietly and to himself, “I just undid my shoes and laces are really annoying to do back up.”

“I can make a good guess to which station he’s based at.” Vera explained, glancing at Emma, she was itching to be alone, to have a moment to herself to think. She couldn’t stand sitting in this house much longer. “I’ll go on ahead, meet me at the First West Bochardess precinct once she’s got an appropriate outfit.” 

“How are you getting there?” 

“I’ll walk.”

“But it must be ages away.”

“I’ll walk _fast_.” Vera gritted her teeth, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet. Tsuru let out an exasperated sigh, 

“It’ll be quicker to wait and drive with us.” 

“I know the route, I’ll take a shortcut.” Without another word, Vera turned and started a brisk run towards the main gate. Thankfully, Tsuru didn’t ask how she was so familiar with the station’s location. _He’s good at that._ She admitted to herself, _Leaving unsaid questions unsaid._ She opened the gate and made her way onto the road through the woods. She couldn’t help remembering how the forest looked from North Bochardess. Far larger than she had ever imagined. The trees felt far more formidable this time around. 

She was on the streets of West Bochardess within a minute, her breath steaming in the cold air. After a fair amount of time travelling, it wasn’t so much ‘West Bochardess’ anymore. Rather, it was the centre of Bochardess. West Bochardess stretched into the middle of the large city, merging with the cold district. It was where the divide between the rich and the poor was most pronounced. The wealthy spent their time in pleasure houses and gambling dens, then sauntered off to their plush mansions with one of their nightly purchases. The wretched scuttled into any crevice that escaped the snow and the wind, and if they couldn’t find one, then they weren’t wretched anymore; they were frozen. 

Vera knew the feeling all too well, huddling like a rat under bridges and in alleys, holding out for the next job, the next kick. The sun was a God to the poor in a different way – it brought warmth in the day and abandoned them to freeze in the night. It wasn’t a merciless or cruel God, but something far worse; an indifferent one. 

Vera’s feet led her to the First precinct. She paused at the entrance and looked it up and down, took in a breath, then entered. It felt so wrong, like she was handing her enemy a gun and directing their aim at her head. She was certain everyone in the building was looking at her, eyes fixed as they slowly recognised her face, her imposing figure. 

The precinct looked how it always had. A small building with peeling walls in disrepair. Desks and tables scattering the area as officers rushed around with papers and citizens they had recently arrested. Their uniforms were worn and dull, despite the usual bright yellow colour of their neat button up shirts. Vera did notice, however, a few new additions to the decor. Such as the burn marks and scrapes across some of the walls, and the small, circular indents in the metal desks. Cleary, something had gone down here.

Vera walked self consciously over to the front desk, where a man was sitting scanning through some paper work. He had a sunken face hidden behind large glasses and a brown, bushy beard. Vera attempted not to snarl at his unkempt appearance. She failed. 

“Can I see Conner Gowon?” Vera asked, her disapproval evident in her tone. The man ignored her. Vera cleared her throat to gain his attention. He didn’t respond. Vera narrowed her eyes and reached across the desk, snatching the paper work away from him. The man stilled, like a robot running low on charge, then slowly looked up at her with dull, tired eyes. 

“M'am.” It wasn’t a question. 

“If you want this back, tell me where Conner Gowon is.” She said simply, holding the papers above her head. The man stood up, grabbing for them with his right arm. He was far too short to reach. He let out a dejected sigh, 

“If he’s not at his desk he may be outside.” He told her, reaching for his papers again. _Good, so Conner is at this precinct._ Vera held them higher,

“Why would he be outside?” She asked in confusion. The man shifted awkwardly.

“You’ve seen Conner, haven’t you? He’s not the most popular man around here.” Vera caught the tone of contempt and disgust in his words. 

“Why?” Vera’s face darkened, her voice low and threatening. The man shrugged, then gestured at his own face, at his skin.

“Because… You know…” He trailed off awkwardly. “He’s…” Vera arched an eyebrow, wondering if the man had the guts to say it out loud. “…odd.” _Black, you mean._ The man looked at her in silence, he didn’t seem to pick up on the rage beneath Vera’s skin, it was almost as if he was waiting for her to agree with him. 

Brown Eyes felt foolish for forgetting the views of Bochardian people in her short time away from them. At least, the views of those who could afford to accommodate such prejudices. “Can I have my papers now?” The man asked. Vera obliged, holding the papers out to him. Before he grasped them she swiftly ripped them in two, dropping them onto his desk, relishing in the satisfying sound the papers had made.

“There you go.” She hissed, then stalked away from the desk. The man called after her but she ignored him. Vera would have liked to give him an intimate knowledge of what her knuckles against his face would feel like, but unfortunately, Vera wasn’t stupid enough to not only give her enemy a gun and direct the aim at herself but then also pull the trigger for them. 

Vera pushed her anger down and focussed on the task at hand. She poked around the rooms for a bit, avoiding the occasional officer urgently walking past, ducking in and out of interview rooms and evidence lockers so poorly guarded she didn’t realise they were evidence lockers. 

She was looking out for Conner's name plate, but she needn't have. His desk made itself very clear. It was sat in the corner in even greater disrepair than the ones around it, despite someone’s desperate efforts with duck tape. Words had been written on the cubicle’s walls. They'd been scribbled out, but Vera knew the length of a popular racial slur in Bochardess. Such a word would fit perfectly in the blocked out space. She clenched her fists and went outside, not wanting to look at the desk much longer. Bochardian's weren't the most friendly to foreign looking persons. The city itself was far from multicultural and anything ‘other’ was synonymous with inferior. 

Vera didn’t find anyone out front, so went around to the side of the building. She turned into a small alley way, between the grey cement walls of the precinct and the almost identical grey walls of the apartment block next to it. Wires ran from one building to the other above Vera’s head, snow clinging onto them like birds. The floor was also lightly coated with the white, crunchy stuff. 

There, sitting on the floor amidst the white, cigarette in one hand, was the police officer. His dark skin was mottled with bruises and one of his eyes looked swollen. He let out a breath of smoke, rising like the warnings of a fire towards the sky. His orange officer jacket was dirtied and crumpled, his black trousers in much the same state.

“Can I help you?” He asked without looking up at her, tapping his cigarette a few times. Vera didn’t know how to respond at first, and so the sound of distant wind and murmuring pedestrians filled the space between them. Vera found her voice at last,

“You look like the one who needs help.” She pointed out. The officer pursed his lips together. 

“True.” Conner muttered, dropping his cigarette onto the floor and stamping it out with his boot. 

“You smoke?” Vera asked. 

“Quiting. Just needed a few breaths.” Finally, he turned his brown eyes onto Vera. He froze, looking her up and down, registering who it was he was talking to and then shot to his feet. 

“I can see your eye is swollen but I was starting to worry you were blind, too.” Brown eyes joked, surprised it took him so long to recognise her. Conner was still. Vera tried the polite approach, “Mr Gowon, you took some documents from the Library, documents I desperately need to see.” Conner narrowed his eyes.

“This is strange.” He murmured to himself, taking a step back, ignoring her request. Vera gritted her teeth. _Time to try sympathy._ Vera gestured at Conner’s swollen eye.

“Was that the other officers?” She asked softly. Conner scoffed but said nothing. “I could report them for you?” Vera suggested, even if she was sure the precinct wouldn’t care for what someone like her said. Conner continued his silence. “Was it the other officers?” Vera repeated. The man gave in, Vera guessed that he’d accepted he wasn’t talking to someone who’d judge him for what might have happened. 

“They'd never be _that_ brash. No.” He explained, shaking his head. 

“Then who?” 

Conner put his hands in his pockets, straightening his back, “They watched an assailant do it. Just watched. Enjoying the show.” He spat on the ground, “Worthless.” He muttered. Something suddenly clicked for Vera. 

“That's why they sent you into that room back at the warehouse, the one they thought was empty. They were being petty.” Brown eyes realised. 

“You know that's the perfect word for it.” Conner nodded, snarling, “Petty.” _Bonding over people he hates, this could work._

“I could rough them up?” Vera offered. She was tall, strong. It was certainly within her capabilities. It was something she’d been contracted to do in the past, even if Vera didn’t like to admit it. Conner shook his head. 

“ _They_ may behave outside code, but _I_ won't.” Conner gestured at her, “Not that I don't appreciate the offer.” Conner was still, his hand still held out towards the very person he’d tried to arrest on two separate occasions. “Wait a minute, how the _hell_ are you involved in all of this? Last I checked you were just a _bolly_.” Vera flinched at the term, dropped so easily from his tongue.

“ _Bolly_?” Vera heard Emma’s voice sharp and cold behind her, and two pairs of footsteps approaching. Brown Eyes glanced over her shoulder back at the girl, and at Tsuru standing by her side. “What's a-”

“Leave it.” Vera snapped, cutting across her abruptly. Tsuru’s look of shock and then pity sent a thrill of anger through Vera. Clearly, Tsuru already knew just what a _bolly_ was. Brown Eyes’ face turned red.

“You two as well?” Conner backed away fearfully, “I don't want any trouble.” He began. Vera held out a hand to silence him,

“We just want to look at the documents you took, that's all.” She assured him. Conner looked unconvinced.

“Why?” He asked at last. Tsuru had torn his unbearably pitiful gaze from Vera and turned it to Conner.

“I imagine, for the same reason as you.” Conner regarded Tsuru with uncertainty. “We want answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story let me know by leaving a kudos or comment!


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"If you show us the documents, we can help you in whatever it is you're investigating." Tsuru offered. Conner shook his head.

"That's police business, kid, sorry." He explained. Tsuru glanced down at Emma.

"Do your thing." He murmured in a low voice. Emma glanced up at him in confusion.

"What _thing_ ?” She asked innocently. Tsuru frowned down at her and folded his arms. Emma let out a sigh, "Oh, _that_ thing." In an instant her face shifted and her eyes refocussed. Her posture sliding easily into this new demeanour as if it were a second skin, as if Emma's buoyant personality was the scales of a snake being shed, revealing a more lethal version beneath. Vera felt as unnerved and impressed as ever. "Is there anything we can offer you to help your decision?" Emma asked. Conner's face showed brief revulsion,

"I won't be bribed." He gritted his teeth. Brown Eyes didn't worry at first, Marcai had responded much the same and Emma had still convinced him to tell them all he knew. There was no way they were leaving without those documents.

"He's not going to share them, you guys." Emma relented anti-climatically. Vera looked from Emma to Conner in surprise and disappointment, they needed these documents badly. Vera gestured at Conner, encouraging Emma on. Emma took a moment to examine Conner, then shook her head. Clearly, she was seeing something in Conner that Vera wasn't, something that meant he wouldn't just give over the documents they needed. Vera wondered for a brief moment if this was why she'd thought Conner had looked trustworthy when she'd first see him. Perhaps he had strong moral principles within him that Emma could pick up on and Brown Eyes couldn’t.

Vera gave an agreeing nod, decided at last that they wouldn't be able to talk him out of the documents. There was something about this man that differed from others. The beliefs below his skin were fiercely genuine. He wouldn't budge on his code.

"Sorry to waste your time." Vera muttered, walking a few paces away and waiting for the other two to join her. The three of them huddled around each other, scheming.

"What now?" Tsuru asked, folding his arms and furrowing his brow.

"I have no clue..." Emma murmured, hands in her coat pockets. It was a long, soft looking coat that was a light turquoise. Vera wondered where Emma got all these pretty looking clothes from. _It's not just the clothes that are pretty._ A stubborn voice in Vera's head helpfully reminded her. Vera pushed it away. Emma's voice snapped Brown Eyes from her thoughts. "Vera?" Emma asked cautiously, as if tight rope walking on the weak thread of a spider's web. Her movements were slow and tentative, she was clearly apprehensive about what she was about to ask. Whatever it was, she knew it was as dangerous as jumping on thin ice. "What's a ‘ _bolly'_?" Vera's muscles snapped into a tense hold. She felt frozen by the word, frozen by the question and frozen by its answer. Tsuru looked at Vera with an expectant look.

"Get it over with." He encouraged sympathetically. Vera's words were like the crack of a whip.

"Leave. It.”

"Vera, it's no mystery that you had a hard time in the past," Tsuru murmured in a low voice to her, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, just give the poor girl some context to why you are the way you are." Tsuru reasoned. Brown Eyes' jaw clenched. She felt so tired, so exhausted. She wanted to curl up in a bed and sleep. But not just any bed; the warm, soft, old bed she'd grown up with. In her small room in her small cottage by the coast where she'd spent her childhood. She didn't want any of this, and she didn't want to remember any of what had come after her blissful ignorance.

"A _bolly_ ,” she began, taking a long, strained breath, preparing herself for the crash, "is a Bochardian term for..." Vera's words caught in her throat. She swallowed, glanced away, then looked down at Emma coldly, numbly forcing herself to respond. "It's a prostitute, Emma. I was a prostitute." It was as if she had just jumped off the edge of a cliff, and now she was free falling towards the rocks. Her stomach felt suspended in mid air, cold and taught and fearful. A rush of horror and cold shivers were painfully creeping up every bone in her body. Emma was completely still, her eyes had widened and the shock in her face pained Vera.

"You..." Emma's voice trailed off, her mouth agape. She was collecting her thoughts and about to say something, Vera completely and utterly at her mercy, unable to form words of her own. For a blissful moment, Vera thought she could see coming words of encouragement, forgiveness. Acceptance, even. But just as those words were forming, Conner cut back in. Vera hadn't realised he'd been listening in on them.

"Emma?" He asked in a shocked voice, "You're Emma?" His face was dumbstruck. Emma nodded. "Emma Chavez?" He asked again. Vera sensed where his questioning was going and she took a protective step between the shorter girl and the police officer, her confession evaporating from her mind.

"That's none of your business." Vera hissed threateningly, stretching herself to her full height. Conner didn't flinch.

"Emma Chavez," he addressed her, assuming his assumption was correct, "I'm going to need to take you in on suspicion of the recent murders of Urham Djan and Tommett Reaver." He pushed past Vera, who let him, frustration gripping at her bones. They couldn't assault a police officer, and Vera couldn't think of any other way to stop this. "You can only be held for 14 hours maximum, during which essentials must be provided by next of kin, at the end of which you may be released or prosecuted. Are you native to Bochardess?" He asked. Emma looked petrified as Conner placed handcuffs around her small wrists, her arms and hands trembling, her wide eyes darting from Tsuru to Vera in panic. Brown eyes turned to Tsuru hopefully but was met with a just as hopeful a look from him. Neither of them knew what to do. Both of them were hoping the other did.

"I... I'm not sure." Emma stuttered. Conner looked taken aback.  
"There's no protocol for that." He muttered to himself, taking a firm grip of Emma's right arm, "Well, I'll tell you both options then. Either you can make one call to the embassy of your country of origin, or the government will provide you with a phone call to someone of your choice." He explained, then led Emma into the police building, listing of some more rights and regulations to the confused girl.

"What do we do?" Tsuru hissed as they helplessly followed after Conner. Vera didn't answer. She didn't know.

"Why is he arresting her?" She responded with instead. Tsuru was silent. Then it clicked for Vera, "He has those family tree documents, he must have recognised Emma's name from them.”

"He's not arresting her because he thinks she's guilty," Tsuru breathed out in relief, "he just needs to question her." Bochardess law was fairly harsh, and so all persons possibly involved with a crime, whether it be innocently or not, intentional or mistaken, were arrested as if guilty, but usually promptly released. Vera looked up to the sky, the panic slowly draining out of her. They entered the police building and Vera watched Conner talk to the man at reception, the one who had been _oh so_ helpful earlier.

"I need one of the interview rooms." Conner's voice was edged with frustration, "Put it down for Emma Chavez." At the name two officers standing near by stiffened. Vera could almost smell their bad intentions and she felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. She nodded towards them and Tsuru gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Rebellion?" Vera murmured quietly.

"Very possibly." Tsuru responded in a hushed tone. The receptionist glared up at Conner,

"They're all in use right now. Sorry." He didn't sound sorry, and Vera knew for a fact he was lying. She'd snuck into a least four empty interview rooms previously.

"You didn't even check." Conner insisted.

"Yes, I did.”

"I've been watching you since I asked, you haven't moved a muscle." Conner argued. The short man shrugged,

"I checked before you got here." He glanced at his watch through squinted eyes, "you have twenty more minutes of break time left, that's about enough to take her back to yours and interview her there.”

"That's against protocol." Conner spat.

"Not if you have permission." The receptionist gave his hands a sarcastic clap, "Ta da, by the power of the sun I grant thee permission, now be gone." He waved his hand dismissively and Conner let out a grunt, pulling Emma out the building with him. The girl caught sight of Vera and Tsuru, looking calm and focussed, and she visibly relaxed. Vera gave her what she hoped was a comforting nod and followed her and Conner outside. The police officer turned to them once he reached a very old, faded, yellow car, which Vera presumed was his.

"I understand if you don't feel comfortable with her being interviewed on my own private property, so I would like to offer you the ability to join us to ensure her safety." He offered, his face apologetic. Sympathy tugged at Vera, he seemed so tired. She reckoned he worked night and day, twice as hard as any other officer, but it all amounted to nothing when all anyone saw was your skin colour. He was just doing his job to the best of his ability, and no one cared. Brown Eyes gave a nod,

"Sure, thank you." She said. Conner gestured to his car,

"It's small, but you should fit in the back." He offered. Tsuru pushed Vera towards the car,

"You go with Emma, there's no way I'm letting you near my motorcycle." He explained, walking over to where his motorbike was parked. "Driving Emma here was enough of a nightmare, I can't have you on it also." He added testily to himself. Vera gave a roll of her eyes but was silently glad, she didn't like the idea of Emma being left alone in the car with someone she barely knew, it would no doubt put the shorter girl on edge. Conner removed Emma's handcuffs, giving a shrug, before letting her climb into the back seat.

“Protocol's already out the window." He muttered, "there's no need for them really." Vera got in after Emma, squeezing next to her in the cramped back area of the car. Conner walked around and got into his side, pulling his door shut with a squeak. After a few tries, the car's engine started, feeling like a stiff old man getting up from a chair, and Conner pulled away onto the road. "Where's your friend?" Conner asked. The loud noise of an obnoxious motorbike answered his question. Tsuru roared past them at a break neck pace and then applied the brakes, doing a skid for effect before coming to a more reasonable pace behind the car. Conner's brow furrowed. "Oh." He muttered, "He's _that_ type of person." Vera snorted,

"You have no idea." She grumbled miserably. Silence fell over the car as they drove to Conner's house. It didn't take long, but about five minutes before they arrived Emma turned to Vera and, in a voice so soft and gentle Vera thought it could soothe her to sleep right there, said,

"I don't care what you had to do, because I know you had to do it." Brown Eyes' senses focussed in on Emma, and she had to fight the desperate urge to lean towards the shorter girl, to take her face in her hands and hold her there, examining every detail as if it were food she'd been starved of. Instead, Vera settled for a verbal response, leaning in close to Emma so that her mouth was inches away from her ear, the proximity felt like the best kind of poison.

"Nothing has ever come so close to making it all okay as that sentence just did." She whispered, pulling away and looking at Emma in a mixture of happiness and misery. Her eyes were dry, but she knew it was a close thing. Emma gave her a soft smile as her reward, and Vera's heart swelled. The last five minutes were the quickest Vera had ever experienced.

The car pulled up by a red bricked building. They were still in West Bochardess, but in the more run down suburban area, and the building was showing signs of disrepair and age. The building was one story tall. The yellow car came to an uncomfortable stop and its engine gave a last splutter before Conner turned it off. Tsuru pulled his motorbike to a stop next to them, dismounting it and looking up at the building. Vera hopped out, holding the door for Emma and closing it behind her. They reached the red door and Conner slotted a key into a key hole, turning it with some difficulty. Conner went in first with Vera, Emma and Tsuru close behind. 

Conner flicked on a light switch and Vera wasn't sure if she was surprised by what she saw before her. After the lights had managed to flicker on, Vera could see that the apartment had a theme of warm orange and light brown colours. It looked Italian, even, with a tiled kitchen and sofas and foot stools dotted around. The windows themselves had black bars over them, but not like prison bars, like the kind you'd find in some foreign country; they were decorative.

"Wow..." Vera trailed off, impressed at the decor. Conner looked embarrassed though,

"I know, I haven't cleaned it in a while." He muttered, straightening some magazines on the kitchen counter and wiping his hand along the surface as if there was dust. There wasn't. Conner motioned to a red couch at the front of the room, facing a small television. "Please, sit down, I'm gonna collect some paper to take notes with." Emma obliged and flopped down on the sofa, from the surprise on the girls face, which Vera found rather amusing, Brown Eyes guessed that it had far more give in it than Emma had anticipated.

"You and Emma keep him busy, I'll do some snooping." Tsuru instructed quietly. Vera turned a disproving look on him,

"How about I do some snooping and you and Emma distract him." She retorted.

"This again..." Tsuru let out a frustrated breath, "How about you just do as I say!”

"How about no?" Vera hissed. Emma rolled her eyes,

"And I'm meant to be the youngest." She muttered. Conner returned with a notepad and pen and Tsuru aggressively shoved Vera towards the couch. Brown Eyes glared at him but sat down none the less. Conner got himself settled on a stool and leant forward, looking closely at Emma. He didn't notice Tsuru slip into a side room.

"Full name, please." He began.

"Emma Chavez." Emma said, her voice frail, her anxiety had stuck around.

"What is your connection to the group known as the rebellion?”

"I'm might be related to one of them." She said softly. Conner glanced up at her.

"You most definitely are." He informed her, "I saw the family tree." Vera stiffened, her gaze turning to rest on Emma. The shorter girl looked just as rigid.

"I am?" She asked. Conner nodded. Emma let out a breath, “Woah."

"You didn't know?" Conner raised an eyebrow. Emma shook her head. Conner put down his pen and pad, "Do you know anything about the rebellion then?”

"Not much." Conner gestured for her to elaborate. Emma tilted her head and looked at the ceiling as she recalled, "I know they are a large group of people who do not like another large group of people called the society." Conner was leaning forward, hands on his knees, listening intently. "I know that they want to kidnap me, and I know that they know my name. I know the group formed a little after Bochardess did." She gave a shrug, putting her hands delicately in her lap, "That's about it.”

"Almost all correct." Conner said. Vera looked at him with interest,

"Which part have we got wrong?" She asked.

"The part about the group forming after Bochardess. According to my research, there are accounts of the rebellion dating way before the formation of this city." Conner explained. Brown Eyes tilted her head in thought, that meant either Marcai had lied to them about when the rebellion had formed, or he hadn't known himself. _Perhaps the rebellion lied to him._ She pondered, _Spun a story of revolution and righteousness to drum up support for their cause._ "I'd estimate that the rebellion formed about forty years ago.”

"They're dangerous." Vera said, her voice low, "The rebellion. They seem to have eyes everywhere, friends in high places. There is very bad blood between them and the society." Vera didn't know why she cared, but she was worried for the police officer, he seemed nice enough. "I would recommend not getting involved." Conner waved her off,

"I could say the same for you." Vera narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw.

"Believe me, if we could just up and leave, we would. But we can't until we know the rebellion will leave Emma alone. There is no such obligation to keep you sniffing around.”

"It's my job." Conner retorted, "I'm here to protect the people, and so many have already fallen victim to this brewing war. I simply want to expose what's happening, to end the bloodshed.”

"How can you do that when your own precinct is against you?" Vera shot back, ruffled by his 'do good' attitude. Conner stilled, hurt flashing on his face, then his shoulders sagged.

"I don't know." He murmured. He shot them a weak smile, "Thanks for your help, though.”

"Can we leave?" Emma asked, sitting up straight with eagerness. Conner gave a nod,

"Sure." He muttered defeatedly. Clearly, he'd hoped for them to have more on the rebellion, a location, perhaps. Emma was directly related to someone in the rebellion, Conner must have thought her a godsend with detailed insider information. Unfortunately, Emma was as in the dark as anyone else, if not more so. Tsuru re-entered the room.

"Got it." He said, flashing a piece of paper that Vera assumed was the family tree. Conner shot to his feet.

"Those are my documents." He hissed, 'Hand them over." Tsuru smiled smugly,

"Sure, but I've already memorised them." He taunted. Vera felt her phone buzz and glanced down at it. A message sent a few moments ago had loaded; an image of the piece of paper.

"What a great memory you have." Brown Eyes murmured sarcastically to herself, putting her phone in her trouser pocket. Conner snatched the paper off of Tsuru, glaring at him, his brow furrowed.

"I have a right mind to arrest you for tampering with evidence." He threatened. Tsuru pouted at him,

"Oh boo ho, because it worked out so well when you tried it with Emma." Conner gritted his teeth. Brown Eyes caught sight of movement outside, people loitering amongst the grey buildings and snow filled alleys.

"As fun as this is." Vera said, getting up and moving over to the front window, slightly parting the curtains with a hand, "We have company." The atmosphere pulled taught, suddenly quiet. Loaded with panic. Conner shuffled his way over to the window and looked out. Sure enough, on the other side of the road, there was a black car parked, with two men inside. Another pair, a man and a woman, stood casually to the right of the house on the pavement. They had guns strapped to their hips. "Rebellion?" Vera asked as Tsuru joined them, examining the outside world.

"It's likely, unless you have any enemies?" Tsuru turned to Conner. He shook his head. "No. You don't seem like the type." Vera's mind was scheming an escape route.

"We could take them out?" She offered. Tsuru pointed to the left of the house. Vera spotted three more men huddled around each other. "Perhaps not.”

"We could distract them and sneak Emma out the back." Conner cut in, taking control of the situation. Tsuru and Vera looked at him in surprise, then at each other.

"It could work." Vera admitted. Tsuru gave a nod. Emma turned pale as she looked out the window.

"All of this over me...?" She muttered in dismay, giving her head a shake.

"Come one, let's act now, before they surround the place." Vera instructed, "Conner, where is your back door?" Conner pointed into a back room,

"Past the kitchen, in there. It'll be locked, keys in the draw to the left of the door.”

"Distract them, then rendezvous back at the cottage." Brown Eyes instructed, "Let's go." Vera said to Emma, moving towards the exit.

"Don't need to tell me twice." Emma scuttled after Vera.

"Wait!" Tsuru stopped them. He grunted reluctantly then, pained as if he were pulling his own skin off, removed his obnoxious red jacket and held it out to Emma. "Your turquoise coat is like a sign post, if I wear it and put on a helmet they may mistake me for you." Emma glanced at first the jacket, then Tsuru, uncertain. 

"Okay..." Emma pulled her blue coat off and handed it to Tsuru who put it on. "Brings out your eyes." Emma teased. Tsuru scoffed,

"Please, my eyes are stunning regardless." Vera glanced Tsuru up and down as he handed Emma his red jacket. The lack of bright red helped lower his obnoxious score, and the female coat suited Tsuru surprisingly well. 

Emma hadn't yet taken Tsuru's red jacket from him. He gave it a shake, "Go on." He encouraged, more to himself than her.

"Really?" Emma asked in disbelief, "I can wear it?”

"You'll get cold otherwise." Tsuru muttered. Emma took the jacket and shot him a smile,

"Such a gentleman.”

"You know it." He winked back. Vera rolled her eyes and gagged, to which Emma chuckled. Vera and Emma turned to leave, but Brown Eyes paused and glanced back at Tsuru,

"Be safe." She said, feeling a surprising amount of concern for the man, in that she felt any concern at all. Tsuru gave her a nod in response,

"You too." Tsuru and Conner opened the front door and stepped outside. Vera caught sight of the men and women stiffen, but they made no move towards the two, only watched. Tsuru grabbed one of the helmets from his motorcycle and, for probably the first time in his life, put it on. Brown Eyes didn't see anymore because she and Emma had moved to the back room.

"How you holding up?" Vera asked as she fumbled through the draw of an oak cabinet for the keys, crammed full of tape and old rags and small tools that clattered as she moved them about in her search. She found the keys and unlocked the back door with a click. It opened easily and they snuck out into the back garden. It was small, with grey tiles and the occasional weed. A brown fence encompassed the perimeter, with a gate at the back leading out onto an alley.

"Well, I'm related to a criminal organisation that I'm also currently running from." Vera looked down at her expectantly,

"So... not good?”

"No, not good." Emma confirmed, then narrowed her eyes slyly, "Great." Vera did a double take as she pushed open the gate and walked out onto the alley.

“What?"

"I've spent the best part of my life locked up, and while this is all terrifying, don't get me wrong, I'm beginning to acclimatise to it. And, honestly? It's a lovely change of pace." Emma explained. "I have family I didn't know I had, and I'm free to go and find them. And... I _want_ to find them." The girl paused, "Is that bad?" Vera knew it was problematic to want to meet your relative who was trying to kidnap you, but also a natural reaction to discovering you had family you never knew you had. Vera was about to mention how, as exciting as it all might be, it was still dangerous, but the gunshots that interrupted her conveyed this well enough.

Vera instinctively ducked and looked behind her. No one was around the alley way. More gun shots, the roaring of an engine echoing in the cold silence of the city. Tsuru. Vera pushed worried thoughts from her mind and grabbed hold of Emma's hand, pulling the girl along behind her as she set off quickly down the alley way in the general direction of the cottage. "Protect them." Emma murmured a pray, briefly touching the small golden cross hanging around her neck. Vera released Emma's hand once they came to the end of the alley. _A cross won't guarantee someone's safe return._ Vera thought miserably. She paused for a fraction of a second, the motorbike and a black car raced past them on the left. Vera ducked backwards, shielding Emma from view with her body. Emma muttered something in surprise and Vera realised she had Emma pinned against a cement wall. She lurched backwards,

"Sorry." She muttered. Once she thought it was clear she set off to the right. "Keep your head low." She instructed, then, thinking quick, she removed her beanie and handed it to Emma, "Tuck your hair into this." She said, "Keep the hem folded when you pull it on or it'll be far too large." She added. Emma grabbed the beanie and, pushing her hair up into it, pulled it over her head. Vera took a moment to realise how good Emma looked in that red jacket with her hair hidden in a beanie. Brown eyes thought Emma always looked nice, but seeing her in something more masculine was something she hadn't realised she'd craved. Not that she didn't appreciate the feminine sides of Emma just as much. She flushed at her own thoughts and averted her eyes. Emma wriggled her eyebrows teasingly, usually, she missed Vera's little stare sessions, but it seemed for once Vera had been caught.

"Like what you see?" She asked, elbowing Vera teasingly. Brown Eyes was glad for the joke, she didn't want to think about Tsuru being shot at. 

They walked on uninterrupted for a while, ducking behind buildings and through alleyways, avoiding the wider streets. They got a few stares from the occasional pedestrians, but they'd simply disappear into a shadowed pathway or a deserted through-route, their footsteps the only evidence of their presence amongst the grey buildings and black wires. 

They were in the home stretch towards the forest when Emma broke the silence,

"How are you holding up?" She asked. Vera started, looking down at Emma in surprise.

"Me?" She questioned. Emma gave a nod. Vera didn't know what to say, she wasn't sure if she'd ever been asked such a question. "I'm... fine." _I'm concerned for Tsuru._ She admitted to herself, not sure if she wanted to voice this out loud. She let out a breath, "I'm worried." She began, then, in defence of herself, "Let's be clear, Tsuru is the worst person I've had the displeasure of meeting. He's controlling, conceited and unfunny. But…"

"You like him." Emma finished for her. Vera pursed her lips in frustration, but dipped her head in agreement,

"Yes. I suppose I've grown a sort of affection for the man. I blame proximity." Emma laughed and a smile tugged at Vera's lips. Somehow, Emma's laugh made all her worries seem less severe. Emma's laugh trailed off, Vera could hear the concern underneath her voice.

"I like him too." She agreed. "I feel like his jokes are just his way of interacting. It's just how Tsuru holds a conversation.”

"I'd rather silence." Vera grumbled. Emma gave a small chuckle, but her happy exterior was beginning to fade as the reality of the situation settled over her once more.

"I really hope he's okay." She murmured quietly after a beat of quiet. Vera didn't say anything, just nodded. Deep down she knew the chances of Tsuru 'being okay' were low, and she hated it.

"Protect them." Vera prayed in spite of herself, casting her eyes upwards, wishing on the sun, in the same manner one might cross their fingers, that he'd be okay. There was silence. Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath.

"He heard." Emma whispered softly as if her voice would break the calm of the quiet. Vera looked down at her and gave a soft smile,

"At least one of us can be comforted by him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story let me know by leaving a comment or kudos!


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The cottage looked as inviting as it ever had as Vera and Emma went through the gate and onto the premises. Vera couldn’t stop thinking about how much had happened since she first arrived here, even if it had only been a few days. Emma seemed to be having a similar thought. 

“So much of my life has just been the same things one after another. It was awful, I was so bored with everything.” She smiled in a pained fashion up at Vera, “Then you and Tsuru arrived.” Emma fumbled with the hem of her skirt, then, “When all this is done will you and Tsuru just… leave?” Emma turned her green eyes up at Vera. Brown eyes wasn’t sure what to say, as much as she felt herself pulled to Emma, tied down, she wasn’t sure what the future held. Vera was silent and Emma had to prompt her. “Vera?” 

“I have my own life to think about.” Vera said at last. Emma looked heart broken, but only for a moment, before the girl recovered herself.

“Right, of course.” She muttered as Vera opened the door and entered the cottage. Brown Eyes didn’t say another word, she just trekked her way upstairs and to her room. She fished out the empty jam jar from her bed side table and sat down on her bed. She took the lid tightly in her hand and opened it, and closed it, until the sun was beginning to set. Her thoughts had been muddled with how she was feeling, how Emma’s laugh made her heart rise, how natural being around her was. She was settling into a comfortable rhythm with the other girl, and she didn’t want that to end. Her jaw clenched and she put the jam jar back into the draw, walking down stairs. 

“Emma?” She called. Emma was curled up on the cream coloured couch, asleep. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at Vera. 

“Hm?” 

“When I said I have my own life to think about, I wasn’t ruling you being a part of that life out.” She explained. Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion, she was smiling. “What?”

“Why didn’t you just say that before, silly?” Emma asked. Vera crossed her arms and scoffed indignantly, 

“I hadn’t thought about it too much when you’d asked me, I was caught off guard.” She defended herself. Emma shook her head in amazement,

“You’re a bit clueless sometimes, Vera.” She said. Brown eyes shot her a glare, but there was no heart in it. Vera’s phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was from Tsuru. 

“Thank the sun.” Vera breathed, relief surging through her heart, “It’s Tsuru.” She told Emma, who smiled. 

“Thank goodness.” She agreed. Vera opened the text. 

_We’re a bit pinned down ATM but unharmed. Back as soon as we can be, DO NOT call or text I don’t know how to put this stupid thing on silent and a loud noise would NOT help us hide better. Also my motorbike got a scratch on it so I’m pissed. ~uvu~_

“They made it okay, they’re hiding somewhere for a bit while everything dies down.” Vera repeated the message to Emma, slumping down on the couch next to her. She let out a sharp breath, clutching her phone tightly as if it, and the confirmation of Tsuru’s wellbeing, could disappear.

“So we just have to wait?” Emma asked. Vera gave a nod. Emma was still, and then, without an invitation, the shorter girl snuggled up to Vera, lying her head on her shoulder and dozing off. Vera stiffened, rigid as a board, and looked stunned at Emma. “Oh, relax.” Emma scoffed, patting Vera’s cheek with her hand, “Don’t be so reserved.” Brown Eyes scowled at Emma, but felt something inside of her shift, perhaps it was a mixture of the relief and the excitement, but an uncharacteristic teasing smile spread over her lips.

“Alright then.” She said, sliding her arms underneath Emma. 

“Hey! What-?” Emma asked in confusion, breaking off into a playful cry as Vera hoisted her off of the couch. “You’re strong.” Emma observed, wrapping her arms around Vera’s neck, her soft fingers sending trails of fire up and down Vera’s spine. 

“You’re heavy.” Vera huffed, one arm under the girls back, the other the bend in her legs. Emma scowled at her, “I mean as light as a feather.” She corrected herself. Then, in one swift movement, she dropped Emma back onto the couch and followed after her. The two of them fit snugly on the piece of furniture, Emma curled into Vera’s chest while Vera had her arms wrapped around her back. “How’s this for reserved?” Vera asked as she settled herself down next to Emma. The smaller girl smiled and snuggled into Vera’s torso. 

“It’s very comfortable.” She responded. The couch was bouncy underneath Vera, and accommodated her shape, it was more comfortable than her bed upstairs. In spite of herself, Vera allowed a long, large yawn. She didn’t even bother covering her mouth. “Tired?” 

“Yes.” Vera confirmed, pulling Emma closer as if she were her comforter, found again after years of being lost and forgotten. 

“Are-”

“Shh, now is time for sleep.” Brown Eyes protested, closing her eyes. She didn’t see Emma looking at her face, her eyes alight with overwhelming happiness. 

“Okay.” Emma murmured quietly, settling down herself before drifting off. There was a warmth beneath her skin, and simply by being near her the warmth was infecting Vera, too. Her heart was the calmest it had ever been, and for the briefest of moments, before she fell asleep, she felt like she’d never need _sunshine_ again; she’d found something new to be addicted too. 

There was a peaceful interlude of quiet dreaming for the two. Vera was back in her home by the coast, a row of small houses facing the wide expanse of the blue ocean, burning of many colours strung between them, flapping high above large flat stones forming make-shift paths. The waves moved back and forwards, drinking up the sand in long, loud slurps, before releasing it back to the land once more. Vera would never dare diving among them; she was terrified of the water. Vera couldn’t swim, but the noise filled her senses. The dull movement of the waves was all she knew, a constant rhythm humming in the back of her mind, always. A tempo to walk to, to dance to, to live to. The coast was where she belonged, her heart beat in time with the sea. 

Her dream did not let her recall just how far away from the coast she was now. Just how far from her home she had ended up. Instead, her dream had her with her family, laughing and talking, eating warm tea cakes with ice cold water in the sunlight. Her brother was playing with her, tossing a ball and then tackling it from her, pushing her into the cold sand. She was fighting to get the ball back when a loud voice cut through the happy illusion. 

“Vera, Emma.” _Tsuru._ Vera’s eyes opened. Every inch of her skin felt dry and cracked, she was petrified to move her skin felt so fragile. that she worried any movement would crack it open. Her stomach was coiled around itself, sending nausea pulsing through her veins. Her eyes caught sight of Emma’s face, waking just as she had moments before, and such powerful feelings surged in her that fear shook Vera with a ferocious power. _This is wrong._ Voices screamed in her mind, _Dirty, wrong._ Brown Eyes’ stillness was abruptly cut short as she lurched away from Emma, whipping her arms from out under her as if the girl’s skin was burning. She stumbled off the couch and away to the other side of the room, her eyes wide and her chest heaving in each panicked breath. Emma let out a wail as it had happened, tumbling off of the couch and onto the floor, hitting her head on the side of the coffee table with a loud crack. Vera’s skin crawled as if she was covered in insects, she wanted to scream and shake her arms free of the sensation but she couldn’t move. Tsuru, having heard the noise, rushed over to Emma, who was sitting herself up, a hand pressed tenderly to her forehead where a red mark had appeared. 

“Ow…” Emma complained as Tsuru knelt down next to her and checked the wound. Tsuru let out a breath, 

“Just a bruise.” He murmured. Emma’s face broke into a smile, sleep still dazing the young girl’s mind, and she threw her arms around Tsuru in joy. 

“You’re okay!” She squealed, pulling him in for a tight hug. Tsuru looked as lost as Vera felt. He awkwardly gave Emma a pat on the back, smiling, 

“I know I’m amazing but you don’t need to worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He teased. Emma pulled back and let out a laugh that was a mixture of happiness and relief.

“I’m glad.” She confessed, then looked towards Vera, who was now sitting on the floor, leaning against the pink couch, her head in her hands, her shoulders tense. Emma’s face fell as she realised how quickly Vera had rushed away from her. Brown Eyes didn’t see the crestfallen look, which was probably for the best. 

“Vera, what the hell was all that about?” Tsuru asked, his tone harsh, “Emma could have seriously hurt her head.”

“Leave it.” Vera’s voice was so quiet, wafting out from behind her hands. Conner, who had been standing away from the three of them, watching on, cut in. 

“Is everything okay, Vera?” Brown Eyes felt anger and shame flash at the sympathetic question. They were walking on very thin ice. Vera herself didn’t know quite how close she was to snapping.

“Leave it.” Vera reinforced, words low and laced with warning. She slowly got to her feet and exited the room, her bones felt stiff and every movement was pained. 

“Good to see you again, too.” Tsuru hissed under his breath. Vera ignored him, the walls were creeping in on her like a collapsing wave, suffocating the air from her lungs. Everything was too small, too cramped. She needed some air. Luckily, Tsuru and Conner had left the door open and so Vera just stood in the door way, taking in breath after breath. Her mind cooled, her heart calmed, but Vera’s emotions refused to leave. She was on the edge of despair. _What is wrong with me?_ She raged inside her mind. She was fed up with herself, fed up with this back and forth. One minute she felt ready to grow closer to Emma, the next she wanted to ran as far away as she could, then nothing seemed safer and warmer than Emma’s arms and a soft embrace, then nothing felt worse. Voices whispered her feelings were wrong, but the pull towards the shorter girl was taught. _Why can’t I just decide what I’m going to do and stick with it? Why do I have to be trapped in this limbo?_

Vera heard voices calling her, but she didn’t feel like facing them. She walked outside to have some time alone with her thoughts and was half way down the drive when a hand seized hold of her shoulder. Vera whipped around, tugging her shoulder free and glaring at the owner. Conner looked startled for a brief moment, then it was gone, a look of understanding and empathy replaced it. 

“Vera,” He began softly, “Do you want to talk about it?” Vera was frozen, she opened her mouth to answer him, but no words formed on her tongue. Conner blinked and gave a slight nod, “If you don’t want to, that’s alright.” He added. Vera closed her mouth, swallowing. She clenched her jaw and looked out over the field. “You know what, it was a bad idea.” Conner back tracked, “Listen, me and Tsuru got new intel, and we’re gonna need to ask you some questions before we make our next move.” Vera’s hackles were already raised, and Conner’s lack of respect for grammar only worsened her condition. 

“ _Our_ next move?” Brown Eyes hissed baring her teeth. 

“I know you don’t know me that well but, as Tsuru put it, I just want answers, the same as you.” Conner insisted.

“If you’d known me for more than a few hours you’d know I don’t want answers. I want, all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever tried for, is out. I want out.” Vera felt a storm of pain and misery swirling like a whirlpool within her. She wasn’t one for monologues, but she was at the end of her tether, it was time people started to understand just how close she was to breaking. “I used to have a life, by the coast. I had a family I loved, a house I knew so well I could navigate it in the dead of night. I had aspirations, friends, a future. _A life_.” Vera took a step towards Conner, her eyes blazing. “I lost it all. Every last memory, every smile and laugh was ripped from my grasp because of who I was. I was locked away where no one could find me, and all I wanted was out. I didn’t care about the other people trapped with me, I didn’t care about my parents who’d forsaken me, all I cared for was out. 

“When I was pumped full of chemicals, all I wanted was out. When men came into my cell without permission, all I wanted was out. But all I was was a child.” She took a moment to breathe, Conner was still, thinking she had finished, but she hadn’t. _He may not want to hear this. Tough. I had to live it._ “Eventually, I was released. I got out. But not really. I was thrust from a cell and onto frozen pavements. On my first night alone, huddled in an alley, I nearly froze to death, and I almost wish I had. But I was found. Found by someone warm, with a smile like honey, and a house filled with pretty lights and shiny coins. I was welcomed in with open arms, but it was not for free. Those arms snapped closed around me. I owed them rent, I owed them my life.” Vera scoffed in amusement, “Not that it was worth anything in the first place.

“I was trapped again, selling what little I owned, then selling myself, selling whatever I could to get by. All I wanted was out. I didn’t care about the other girls struggling, or the crimes surrounding me, I just wanted out. Every night my body felt sore and it was the most filthy experience I’d ever had. The most rancid existence I’d ever lived. I never slept the same again. So you know what I did? Every night, after my shift had ended, after I’d finished with my…” Vera sneered in distaste, “Duties… I’d stay in my room and I’d train. My legs, by arms, by core. I was going to become strong, no one was coming to get me, I had to get myself back. Every push up, ever sprint, was a step closer to release.” Vera quietened, her eyes went to the floor. 

“There was a time, briefly, when the power I’d learnt became more than sufficient, when I was feared, when my shifts grew ever shorter as I found more use being muscle, not an object. I forgot about ‘out’. I began to crave for a different escape, an expensive, temporary release. I clawed anyone in my way into the ground to reach my precious sunshine, to obtain power over those who’d used me. I got too confident, and when it came to it, I didn’t have the guts to do what was needed to rise to the top. So I ran. Because I realised my mistake for wanting anything else, and so all I wanted from then on, was out.” Vera shrugged, “And here I am now. I want no part in these people who have caused so much misery in their focus on power. I want no part in this war. I want no part in this pointless investigation. All I want is out. Every question, every judgment, is a terrible shock back to what I used to be. The more we look into this the more people are looking into me. So no, I don’t want answers. I want out. I want my coast, my house, my family, but I can’t have that. That’s dead. So all I want now is _out_.” Vera finished, verging on tears. Her chest heaved with each miserable breath, her fists clenched. She hoped that Conner understood, that he, and everyone else, would leave her alone, would let her deal with what she was dealing with in peace. Conner considered her. He was silent for what felt like a whole minute. When he spoke his words were quiet in comparison to the wind whispering about them, to the tree branches shifting in a low murmur, and yet they were all Vera could hear. 

“So why haven't you left?” He asked. His words cut through Vera, knocking her breath away. Instinctually she looked past Conner at the cottage, her body betraying her. Vera averted her eyes promptly, but the man had noticed. Conner gave her a knowing look, “Give it time.” Was all he said on the matter. He gestured for Vera to follow him, “Come on, me and Tsuru have some questions we need to ask.” Vera watched him walk into the cottage in silence, her mind thinking from behind her brown eyes. She cast a look around the drive way and, with a grim expression, she followed after him, too tired to resist anymore. 

By the time Vera re-entered the sitting room, Emma was nowhere to be found. Brown Eyes glanced around, but the girl was gone. 

“She’s upstairs.” Tsuru said coldly, noting her searching look. Vera straightened her posture, off put by Tsuru’s ability to read her so well. “She didn’t take too kindly to being shoved off the couch, surprisingly.” He added. Vera’s eyes snapped onto him, but she said nothing in response, her anger was evident enough through her expression. She sat down on the cream couch opposite Tsuru, folding her arms. 

“You have questions?” She asked. Conner nodded, pulling over one of the chairs set by the table and placing it down to face both of the couches. He reclined into it and gestured at Tsuru,

“Tell her.” He instructed. Tsuru was quiet for a moment, he’d reclaimed his red jacket from Emma and looked more like himself again, his sunglasses covering his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t wear those indoors.” Vera protested, pointing at the sunglasses. Tsuru tilted his head and spitefully took them off, revealing a black eye. Vera lowered her hand and went mute, a flash of guilt rolled over her. She was about to voice that she had been worried about Tsuru, that she was glad of his safe return, but Tsuru had other plans. 

“Yesterday, whilst we were…” Tsuru gestured at his eye and smiled ruefully, “ _Distracting_ those lovely ladies and gentlemen, we managed to get our hands on a particularly cowardly man, and we got ourselves some information.” Tsuru raised his hand, holding up one finger, “Firstly, as suspected, they were rebellion.” Vera gave a nod, this wasn’t news. Tsuru raised a second finger, “Secondly, the police force have only been partially infiltrated by the rebellion.” 

“That’s still more than it ever should have been.” Conner sighed in resignation, as if it were his own personal failure. Tsuru cast a sideways look at Conner, then raised a third finger. 

‘Thirdly, and most importantly, we got a name. The man who's instructing those hiding amongst the ranks of the police.” Tsuru put his hands on his knees and leant forward, emphasising the syllables of the name. “Mr Hiller.” Vera stilled, her eyes fixed on the coffee table. She’d used that name to convince Ryan Faulty to let them into the back room of Faulty’s house, back when they were still trying to find out who wanted to kidnap Emma. She’d implied that she knew him. Tsuru reclined into the sofa in a somehow intimidating fashion, “You’re old friends, if I recall.” There was a hint of accusation in Tsuru’s voice. Conner remained quiet. Vera took in a sharp breath, 

“I’m not rebellion.” Vera said. No point in beating around the bush, she saw where Tsuru was going with this. She couldn’t help a hint of pain that Tsuru would think so low of her. The man raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m gonna need more than that, Vera.” Brown Eyes opened her mouth in protest, but Tsuru hadn’t finished. “Everything you’ve done so far has put Emma at risk. You take her outside the safe bounds of this cottage every chance you get, you drop her name every other day and there is clearly some sort of emotional manipulation going on as well. Frankly, your actions have been far more beneficial for the rebellion than they have for Emma’s safety.” Vera felt her patience thinning with each example Tsuru conjured. She’d done all those things, true, but not because she was rebellion. 

“I shot two men.” She argued. 

“Non-lethally.” Tsuru shot back. 

“I don’t have much practise with ranged weapons, I tried my best.” 

“You locked me in here whilst going galavanting through town with Emma.” 

“She’d been locked in here almost her whole life, I couldn’t stand by and-” Vera protested. Tsuru’s demeanour shifted, as if he pitied Brown Eyes. Vera felt anger boiling up inside of her. “Tsuru, you don’t really think I-” Tsuru leant forward abruptly, holding his hand out to silence her. 

“I get it. Vera, I do. You were in a difficult position and the rebellion showed up and gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. A way out of the life you were leading-”

“Tsuru…” Vera growled in a low, warning voice.

“No, no, honestly, I get it. You made a choice. You put yourself in a position in which Gortald would,” Tsuru made a disbelieving face, “‘by chance’ come across you and bring you in, and decide that a girl with no experience in combat was a good bodyguard choice.” Tsuru gritted his teeth, “It’s all very convenient, you must admit.”

“You don’t know how I ended up here.” Vera hissed, her fists clenched and her muscles tensed. Tsuru outright glared at her, his teeth bared. 

“Then enlighten me as to how you came to be a bodyguard within months of being a two _dolch_ hooker with a needle inserted into her almost as often as wrinkly old men.” Tsuru’s words had crossed a line there. This was it, Vera felt herself being stretched like a band, stretched and breaking, crashing in on herself. She felt as if she’d gone feral and saw red as she lunged across the coffee table at Tsuru, striking him across the face. She went to hit him again but Conner grabbed her arms and pulled her back.

“Hey! Hey!” He protested. Vera struggled out of his grip, shoving him away from her, and paced furiously around the room, trying to work her anger into something other than Tsuru. 

“You want to know so badly how I got here, huh?” She roared, her face red. Tsuru got himself up off the floor, delicately tapping the spot on his face where Vera had hit him, looking at her uncertainly. “This ‘two _dolch_ hooker’ got some muscle on her, and she started working as one of Mr Hiller’s thugs.” Vera snapped, “She went where she was told, and hit who she was told, however many times she was told to get them to pay up or be quiet or piss off. I dealt with the competition and I kept the ‘girls’ in line, even recruited a few extra when it was necessary, got them as hooked on _sunshine_ as I was, made sure they had nowhere else to go.” She didn’t stop for breath, “I met Gortald by _chance_. I did him a favour, and in doing so Gortald must have taken notice of my skills and decided I could be of use to him. He got me out of there just as my actions were catching up to me.” The room was silent. Vera wished on the sun that Emma was in a room with thick walls, that she hadn’t heard her outburst. Brown Eyes’ voice lowered to a more reasonable level, “I’d have done anything for drugs. There was no limit.” She offered as an excuse for why she’d done what she’d done. Tsuru took a moment to collect himself as he relaxed back into the couch, assessing what he had just heard. Vera stood still, unsure of what to do. 

“I did some research on Bochardess before I came here, asked around.” He began, “I would have heard of you. A _bolly_ jumping the ranks to a thug would have been a big deal.” But his tone was weak, he was already convinced. Vera narrowed her eyes,

“I didn’t go by Vera then.” She explained. “When they first hired me, they gave me the stage name _Brown Eyes._ I took that name, a name that marked me as a product, and I made it into something to be feared.” Tsuru looked up at her abruptly. 

“You were ‘Brown Eyes’?” He asked in disbelief, recognising the title. Vera cast a sideways glance at Conner. 

“Are you going to arrest me?” Vera asked. Brown Eyes was wanted for an assortment of crimes. Assault, drug trade, prostitution. The list went on. Conner looked unsure, 

“Answer his question.” Conner said carefully. Vera took off her black beanie and chucked it to Tsuru. He caught it at the last second. 

“Roll down the hem.” Vera instructed. Tsuru took the black beanie in his hands and unfolded the rim once, then twice, then three times and until the beanie revealed itself to be a folded ski mask, turned into a max-shift beanie. “I dressed entirely in black. They could only see my brown eyes so the name grew iconic.” She added tautly, the memories of her past threatening to swallow her, memories of what she’d done. Then, correcting herself, “I mean, _allegedly_ , they could only see the brown eyes of _some girl_ so it became iconic.” Conner pursed his lips,

“How old were you?” He asked, “When they first took you in and forced you to…” He trailed off. 

“Eighteen.” Vera answered coldly. “Old enough to be legal, but not old enough to know better. Or have a choice.” Tsuru fooled the beanie back up and passed it to Vera. She replaced it to its position, sat on her ruffled blonde hair.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, “It just seemed… the way you act, Vera, it’s suspicious.” 

“If I was really working for the rebellion tell me why didn’t I just take Emma to them the many chances I’ve had already?” She asked, sitting back down on the cream coloured couch tiredly. Tsuru shook his head, 

“We didn’t get any sleep, it was a stressful night I-” Tsuru rubbed a hand over his face, “I’m sorry.” Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath. 

“Whatever.” She muttered. There was silence between the three of them. Tsuru broke it. 

“You were one of Mr Hiller’s thugs?” He asked. Vera glared sharply at him, 

“We’ve been over this, I’m not with the rebellion.” 

“No, not that, I was just thinking,” 

“You can think?” Vera cut in sarcastically. Tsuru leant forward in his seat, ignoring her comment.

“If Mr Hiller is the one who’s giving instructions to, and co-ordinating, rebellion members then he’s our best connection to Emma’s relative.” Tsuru explained. Vera looked unconvinced, 

“Can’t we just use the family tree to locate the people who are related to Emma?” She asked. 

“It’s not that simple.” Conner piped up, “The family tree only lists one name, the writing looks a bit odd and out of place, but it speaks of an uncle. A man that hasn’t been seen or heard from in years.” 

“Off the grid.” Tsuru agreed, “We can’t just search up his residence and go have a chat. We’ll need to go digging for him. Mr Hiller is our best shot.” Vera sat back in her seat as she realised what Tsuru was asking of her. 

“You want me to take you to him.” She breathed. Tsuru gave a small nod. For a moment Vera wondered how this would have gone down if she had been rebellion. _Would Tsuru have tortured the information out of me?_ She wondered. Brown Eyes took in a sharp breath through her teeth, “Well, that’s unfortunate; I don’t know where he lives.” She said. “I got instructions from another guy, a middle man,” Vera sneered at the name as it slipped off her tongue, “Puren Yulg. Filthy man.” 

“And do you know where we could find this Puren Yulg?” Tsuru asked. Vera sneered. 

“Yes.” She said, anticipating what came next, anticipating just where they’d have to go.

“Perfect. We find him, get him to tell us where Mr Hiller is, and then get Mr Hiller to tell us where Matt Chavez is.” Tsuru decided. 

“Matt?” A small voice asked from the doorway. The three of them swiftly turned to look at Emma, stood sheepishly in the hall, green eyes wide. “That’s my relative’s name?” She asked. 

“How long have you been standing there?” Vera asked hurriedly. Emma shrugged,

“Just a minute or two.” Vera breathed an inward sigh of relief. She didn’t want Emma to have heard her earlier outburst. It was bad enough Emma knowing what Vera had allowed people to do to her, she didn’t want Emma to know the horrid things Vera used to do to other people as well. Tsuru nodded, 

“Yes, Your Uncle is Matt Chavez.” 

“Is there anyone else?” Emma asked, walking into the room. Tsuru shook his head, 

“Not listed as alive.” Emma twiddled her thumbs together. 

“Oh.” She murmured. Vera couldn’t bear to look at Emma so she turned back to Tsuru. 

“I’m not doing it.” She said, “I swore I’d never go near that place again.” Tsuru narrowed his eyes, 

“It’s our only option.” He reasoned with her. Vera crossed her arms. 

“No.” She said. 

“It’s our only way of stopping the rebellion from going after Emma.” He continued. Vera stilled. She looked down at the floor, struggling internally with what to do. She never wanted to lay eyes on the place that turned her into who she used to be again. But if it was necessary to keep Emma safe, maybe she could bear it just one more time? 

“Fine. I’ll take you there, but you’re going to have to do the talking.” She relented. Tsuru tilted his head. 

“Why?” 

“We didn’t end on good terms. Last time I left that place I was running for my life.” Vera explained. “I’ll keep a low profile and direct you towards Puren Yulg, you get him somewhere quiet and-”

“And I,” Emma cut across, “Can peacefully extract the information we need, without bloodshed.” She cast a meaningful look at Tsuru who frowned, 

“There’s just no having fun around you is there.” He muttered. 

“I’ll sit this one out.” Conner said, “Might be a bit odd if you go in there with a well known cop.” He added. Tsuru gave a nod, 

“Thanks for all of your help.” He said. Vera let out a murmur of agreement. 

“Even if you did temporarily arrest me.” Emma laughed, smiling pleasantly at Conner. The man smiled back, 

“Sorry, nothing personal.” He said lamely. Conner got up and headed towards the door, “When you find where Mr Hiller is, give me a call.” 

“We promise.” Tsuru called after him, not sounding in the least bit sincere. Conner continued, 

“I’d hate to have to press charges against anyone.” Tsuru and Vera went silent. 

“We’ll call you.” Vera relented. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Conner finished, then left, shutting the door behind him. Tsuru turned to Vera, his eyes exhausted.

“I’m going to take a nap, when I wake up you better be ready to take me to Puren Yulg.” He said. Vera gave a nod,

“Rest easy.” She said coldly, anger still hovering beneath her skin. Tsuru held her gaze apologetically for a moment, then got up and left the sitting room. Emma stood awkwardly looking at Vera. There was a thick silence between them and Vera didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to jump up and wrap Emma in her arms, to tell her she was sorry, tell her what an idiot she was and that she didn’t deserve such a good friend as her. The other half of her didn’t even know what the term friend meant and was disgusted at her need to be close to Emma. 

“What happened?” Emma asked softly. She moved cautiously towards Vera and sat down next to her as if she were a deer that would startle. “Earlier, I mean. When you pushed me away from you. Did I do something wrong?” She asked. Brown Eyes looked down at Emma, a surge of confusion and angst writhing beneath her emotionless expression. Vera stood up.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She said, and left the room as fast as she could, Emma watching her sadly. She retreated to her room, closing the door and crumpling to the floor. She put her head in her hands and just sat there, breathing, for a good few minutes. She opened the drawer of the bed side table and fumbled around, finding the jam jar and fishing it out. She sat opening and closing the object, relishing the popping and screwing noise it made. Once her heart had calmed she lay still in bed and decided she may as well take a nap too. Anything was better than heading back out of her room, where Emma could be. The one person she couldn’t face right now, and yet the one person she really needed to talk to. She rolled over and resolved not to think about it, and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story let me know by leaving a kudos or comment! You can also say hi to me and ask me questions about anything on my Tumblr, @jamjarsthebook


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

“That’s it over there.” Vera nodded at a large building with bright neon signs on the side. The sun was beginning to hang low in the sky, allowing the purple, pink, green and yellow lights to show a scandalously dressed woman lifting a leg up and down. A sickening invitation to purchase the businesses goods. The red bricked walls were crumbling away and looked ragged. It certainly wasn’t an upstanding establishment, and looked like it had few years to remain an establishment that _could_ stand up. Tsuru wrinkled his nose, 

“That’s it?” He asked in disdain. Vera nodded. “You lived there for how long?” Vera cast him a silencing glance as they began to make their way over to the property. 

“Two years.” Vera murmured after a pause of silence. They were in the cold district of Bochardess, but not just any part of the cold district. The part furthest from the city centre and closest to the edge where open moors and fields stretched away into barren, snow patched nothingness. The wind was particularly biting, rushing between the grey block buildings like raging rapids, threatening to carry to weak and small off their feet. The cement roads were lit with the cheap, artificial lights of signs advertising an assortment of pleasures, glowing onto both grey grit and white snow. Gambling, drugs, women. It was all available on tap here, if you had the money. The streets were littered with broken cardboard boxes, and a few whole ones, with raggedly dressed children huddled underneath them, shuddering against the bone cracking chill. These children were ugly - all the pretty ones got snapped up by the brothels. Vera knew this all too well. 

Emma hung close by Vera at first, and Brown Eyes was very aware of her hot breath steaming in the air, ghosting over her lower arm and side. But then Emma moved a few steps away from Vera, huddling close to Tsuru instead. Vera tried to imagine it didn’t hurt as much as it did. She couldn’t even use her surroundings to turn her attention away from Emma, every street was familiar, every turning bringing back memories of what had happened to her here, of what she made happen to other people. Vera held back a shiver, not from cold, as they entered the building. It didn’t have a name, not like ‘Faulty’s house’. It was just a place with women, _sunshine_ and booze, and that’s all any wealthy, foreign visitor needed to know. No names, only pleasure. 

The Building was one of the largest on the street, and inside it was incredibly dark. Red lights filled the large room with a dim glow. Booths and miss matched tables scattered the area. It wasn’t a busy night, but it was busy enough to unsettle Vera. Women dressed in nothing more than their underwear, or a skirt so short it might as well be underwear, paraded around the room, holding trays of liquor. Silver chains hung around there necks, each one with a small card attached to it. Some coloured blue, some red, some silver. 

“What are those?” Emma asked quietly, pointing at a yellow card around a tall and thin woman’s neck, her eyes sunken behind sharp, jutting cheekbones. Emma eyed the woman in confusion and sadness from her timid spot behind Tsuru. The shorter girl looked as if she’d never been more out of her depth. 

“Remind me why Emma had to come in here with us?” Vera growled in a low voice as they made their way over to the side of the room. 

“To stop you two from pulling some poor guys teeth out.” Emma reminded her sharply. Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath and frustration, 

“Those cards around their neck identify which of those ‘poor men’ owns them, and to whom any _dolch_ they make tonight will go.” She hissed. Emma quietened. “Sorry.” Vera muttered, feeling guilty for snapping. Every inch of her wanted to leave, this whole room felt as if it were underwater, and the longer she spent in here the more she craved oxygen, the more she craved escape. She was already feeling starved of air, her stomach in knots. 

“Which one’s Puren?” Tsuru asked, leaning against a wall, his sunglasses still on. Vera was certain he couldn’t see a thing but refused to remove them out of spite. Vera glanced around the room. A fat man with stacks of gold coins piled on his table was laughing merrily whilst groping two women, each in a deep purple outfit, who fluttered their eyelids and joked along with him. Next to the large fellow another man was discussing something rather intently with another, both had strange scars on their faces. They had no women at their table, but plenty of booze. Nearer to them were more wealthy foreign visitors, each in their own array of colourful suits, furs and ties, each with a pocket full of _dolch_ to spend. None of them was Puren Yulg. 

“I haven’t seen him yet.” Vera explained, casting her eyes around. Every glance felt like sticking her hand into a bucket of worms and her skin tingled in revulsion, the slimy feeling this place laid upon her sent tremors of discomfort up and down her. She looked over at the far right of the room where two long red curtains hid the ‘back stage’, as it was called, as if this room were a show which, Vera supposed, it was. All the women trapped here acting the worst of roles. 

Puren Yulg would usually be seen standing there, peering from the curtains, watching over the room like a hungry bird of prey. He’d swoop in whenever necessary to keep the visitors, and his girls, in line. Sharp tongued with sharper talons. He almost always had a look of scheming over his face. 

He hadn’t when he’d first found Vera. 

The cold had been numbing. Vera’s legs were chilled to the bone from walking through fields of wet grass and soggy ground. It had only gotten worse with snow fall by the time she’d reached the capital city, Bochardess. She’d seen an open window, smelt fresh bread, felt the pull of warmth and light. In a desperate scramble towards it Vera broke the window and she, along with an army of shards of glass, fell onto the ground with a crash. No one had bothered to check on what it was. At least, not for a few hours. Vera lay shivering, her long blond hair frozen solid in the bustling wind, her limbs bleeding from small, glass filled cuts. 

A man with warm, soft hands and a smile like honey had rushed towards her, arms wide like a father. He’d wrapped her in a warm cloth, given her some hot almond milk and scones, and told her he’d make sure everything was alright. 

Vera now knew what he’d been doing was making sure Vera had no where else to go. Making sure Vera owed him every second she breathed.

“Vera!” Emma’s hushed voice jerked Brown Eyes back to the present. She’d been staring off into the distance. “You’re shaking.” Emma observed, a look of concern on her face. Vera raised her hand and examined it curiously. Sure enough, it was shaking. Vera jerked her hand back and forward a few times to defuse the jittering, then put it in her trouser pocket when it refused to obey. “Once you identify him you should leave.” Emma whispered. Brown Eyes’ gaze snapped down onto Emma. 

“No one’s recognised me thus far.” She growled defensively. Emma looked as if she was loosing her patience, then her face softened. 

“No, I mean, it can’t be nice for you. Being back here.” She elaborated. Vera shifted from one foot to another and looked away. _She’s not wrong._ She admitted to herself. She was about to say so when her eyes caught movement by the curtain. A man, tall and in a white suit with bleach blonde hair and a snarky smile, stood surveying the room. Vera nodded in his direction, but there was no need. Tsuru had already seen him, the array of gold and white on his person was a flashing signal as to his identity. He looked nothing like the day Vera had first met him. 

“I’m guessing that’s our guy.” Tsuru said, turning to look at Vera. Brown Eyes nodded feebly, and opened her mouth to verbally confirm but something in her gut wrenched the words back inside of her. She shut her mouth and swallowed, forcing down what she thought might have been the beginning of a sob. She nodded again, wordless, her eyes wide like a caged beast. Tsuru’s expression was unmistakable. _Anger. At me?_ “Wait here.” He said in a hushed voice, then led himself and Emma across the room towards Puren. Vera corrected her thought. _For me._

“How long will you let me stay here, Master Yulg?” Vera had asked, all those years ago, her voice soft and little, her long blonde hair trailing over her back and shoulders delicately. She was sitting on an old red couch, worn comfortable by years of use. Puren was reclined luxuriously on the other end, like a cat full after a blood soaked meal. Vera’s large brown eyes looked up at the impressive man. Puren smiled that big, honey smile of his, his old blue eyes sharpening in on her.  
“As long as you need to, kiddo.” He paused, tilting his head in thought, then, as if he were letting her in on a secret he leant in and murmured, “You’ve been such a good girl, Brown Eyes. I’ve got a gift for you, it’ll help you deal with what you’ve gone through.” He took a moment to shuffled through his many possessions, passing over red _dolch_ notes, old receipts and bright bronze coins, then pulled a syringe out of the large black bag in his hands and handed it to her. Vera wasn’t a fool, she’d known what it was. She’d shook her head, 

“No, thank you.”  
“No, thank you?” Yulg had looked offended. Vera corrected herself hastily, 

“No, thank you, Master Yulg.” 

“Well,” Puren pushed the syringe into her hand anyway, closing her fingers around it, “If things ever get too tough, just take some, it’ll soften the blow.” He stood from the sofa, straightening to his tall height, and began to stride away. He stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder, “And, should you ever want anymore of that, I have jobs you can do for me to earn it.” He explained. Vera furrowed her eyebrows. 

“What kind of jobs?” She asked. Puren raised an eyebrow at her. “What kind of jobs, _Master Yulg_.” 

“Oh, nothing too large. Just a few odd jobs here and there, until you get used to it.” He gave a light hearted shrug, “Maybe one day we’ll let you out front stage with the grown women, would you like that?” He asked. Vera had stilled. She didn’t say yes, but she couldn’t say no, she was too afraid. She settled with looking down at the syringe in her palm. “Keep an open mind.” He’d finished, waking through the red curtains to the front room. Vera examined the syringe. She’d no intention of ever taking it. 

“Hey, do I know you?” A man, walking in a cloud of smoke and whisky fumes, sauntered up to Vera. Brown Eyes startled from her thoughts of the past, dragging herself back into the present, into the establishment that finished off the last of her sanity, and looked the man up and down. The man put his hand on her chest, pressing her against the wall. Vera’s heart seemed to stop, the world freezing around her. The wall felt as if it had grown fingers and was holding her in place. “Where’s your name tag, missy?” He slurred. 

“I… I’m not a… I’m not a _bolly_.” She stammered out, staring down at his stained hand and grubby fingers.

“I swear you are…” He insisted, “I recognise those eyes. So brown, so large.” He leant towards Vera. “Not Bochardian eyes at all… So rare.” Vera’s throat was closing, her breath thinning, she felt as weak as paper. Powerless. All she could do was stand and look at this man, at his face. She didn’t recognise him but, to her shame, she knew that didn’t mean he hadn’t been one of her clients. There had been so many, she’d stopped bothering to look at them, pushing her mind as far away from herself whenever she’d had to work. 

“Hey, you!” A woman’s voice. Older. Vera turned towards it, the woman was dressed in an elegant, and modest, dress. Pearls and gold hung heavily around her thin neck. _Not a_ bolly. Vera realised, _A ‘mother’._ Mother’s kept the girls in line, watched the floor, made sure no unwanted business took place, that no competitors stole any profit. 

The man backed off and stumbled towards a table and chairs, wanting no part in any altercations. Vera let out a breath, she had been moments from fainting. She would have said thank you to the woman, but she knew what she was here for. “No card, no selling. Get out.” She hissed. Vera didn’t protest, she was just thanking _Uurgoe_ that this was a new recruit, not one that recognised her. She dipped her head apologetically and left the building. If she’d had a tail, it would be between her legs. She skirted around the side of the building and waited in a dingy alley. The sky was completely black now, and it was beginning to snow. The white flakes were painted green, red and blue by the neon lights cascading over every inch of the streets surrounding her, ebbing and flowing over the cement in waves, without any of the comfort of the ocean. 

Vera leant against a wall and sunk down to her knees, waiting. She took her hands out of her pockets. Still shaking. Still not from the cold. _I’m still weak._ Vera’s miserable attention was pulled away from herself at the noise of someone moaning. It wasn’t the sort of moan wealthy men paid for, or handsome men flirted to make. It was a very different, far more sincere, moan of relief. It was coming from an open window at the back of the building. Vera recognised the sound of release in the voice. She knew exactly what that girl had just done. _Sunshine._ Vera sat where she was, remaining perfectly still. She hadn’t taken any _sunshine_ for a few days and she didn’t want to change that. 

_But that noise._

It was like a syringe was being hung in front of her face and swung back and fourth like a pendulum, counting down to the moment when she’d inevitably snatch a hold of it, ending the timer. Vera let out a grunt of frustration and shot to her feet, pacing quickly towards the window. It was open so Vera grabbed onto its handle and threw it wide. In one swift movement she lifted herself up and into the room. 

The space was tiny, the entire floor was mattresses stacked next to each other. No bedding, no sheets. There was to be no luxuries for a _bolly._ A girl, small and fragile, just how they’re liked around here, was curled up on a mattress, facing the wall. She was twitching all over, and letting out uneven, irregular breaths. Syringes were gripped tightly in her tawny hand, the other was on her head, grasping at mangy brown curls. Vera didn’t know what she was doing, but her hand had slipped into the girls, and she was pulling one of the syringes out. Vera never felt so low, but so incapable of stopping. The girl was too out of it to notice. She looked up at Vera, and even though she wasn’t really looking at Vera that gaze cut straight through her. The girl’s green Bochardian eyes were misted and out of focus. It was detestable, shameful even, to look at. Pity swarmed inside of Vera. Then self loathing. _I’m stealing from her._ But it was too late, the syringe had slipped its way into Vera’s pocket, the needle covered by its thin plastic top. 

“I’m sorry.” Vera said, crouching down by the girl. She put her hand on the girl’s cheek, a strange affinity for the _bolly_ sinking into her. Her skin was soft. The girl put her own hand on top of Vera’s. Brown Eyes felt her heart swell with rage and sorrow, she wondered if this was akin to how mothers felt. Not the mothers out front stage, controlling their children like cattle, but the mothers standing lovingly over a crib or a bed, guiding gently their offspring like a shepherd with sheep. “It’ll get better.” She lied on an impulse, feeling a strong urge to console the girl. The response was a twitch of the lips; perhaps a smile, perhaps a sob, Vera couldn’t tell. Then Vera retracted her hand and went to climb back out of the room, pushing the lie she’d just told to the back of her mind. 

Half way through escaping she heard voices. 

“What’s this all about? I’m a busy man.” _Puren._ It was his voice, no mistaking it, lathering in self-importance and contempt. Vera remembered why they’d come here in the first place. Without thinking about it she lowered herself back into the room and walked out into the hallway, feeling like a ghost in her own body.

The hallway wasn’t dimly lit like the front room, the light was simply not there. In the darkness Vera crept her way forward, she still remembered this place, she saw it when she closed her eyes. Her room, her _old_ room, was down a different corridor, near to one of the rooms used to entertain particularly special guests. But if she went forward, and to the room directly on the right, that was were Puren liked to have meetings with clients, or ‘talks’ with trouble makers. Vera pressed herself up against the thin wall. She could clearly hear what was going on inside. There was a loud thud. 

“Tsuru!” Emma’s voice protested, “I said peacefully!” 

“You said no bloodshed.” Tsuru corrected her, his voice a hiss “Ain’t nothing about bruising and lost teeth.” His last word was more of a roar as another thud sounded. Vera heard a groan of pain. 

“That’s enough.” Emma insisted. Tsuru let out a huff of annoyance, but no further beating ensued. “Puren Yulg,” Emma began. Puren, ever cocky, cut her off. 

“That’s Master Yulg to you.” He hissed. Vera’s heart lurched. _How dare he._ Vera was half way kicking the door in when Emma continued, 

“No, your not.” She said sharply. Vera froze, then let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “You’re nothing to me, nor will you ever be. Nothing but scum.”

“Who the hell are you? I’ve half a mind to call my guards in here.” 

“Like you have any.” Emma snorted. “If you did, you’d have already started screaming.” There was a pause, Vera could practically hear Emma leaning in towards Puren, “Cowards always do.” 

“What do you want?” He spat out again.

“The location of Mr Hiller.” Puren laughed. 

“That’s cute.” 

“Now, or I’ll let the police in on what’s going on in this lovely establishment.” Emma hissed. 

“You think they don’t already know? You think half the money doesn’t line their pockets? Fund their bonuses? You’re more dumb than I thought.” A pause. Emma tried again, more slowly this time. 

“Maybe I just walk into that front room, make a scene, spout a load of nonsense about viruses and disease. I’m sure that’ll be good for lining your pockets.”

“I’ll have you thrown outside before you get one word out.” 

“One word’s all I need.” She said, her voice calm, but there was an edge to it. Puren must have picked up on it too. 

“What’s this really about? You’ve got something against me.” Yulg asked. 

“It’s about finding Mr Hiller, but if you want to know if I think you’re a disgrace of a human being, the answer is yes. I didn’t even know men like you existed until today, and now I wish I never had.”

“It’s just business sweetheart. Profit.” 

“It’s lives, it’s slavery.” Emma retorted. 

“Names. Numbers. Money. We’re looking at the same picture, kid, only I’m using grown up glasses.” He let out a low whistle, “And if I do say so myself, things look a lot more pretty with grown up glasses on. I must say, you’re skin is very exotic.” Vera heard a noise of hand hitting another hand away. 

“Don’t touch her.” Tsuru hissed. Vera felt sick at the image of Puren reaching for Emma that formed in her mind. 

“Tell us where Mr Hiller is.” Emma continued, unperturbed. 

“No.” Puren said simply, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to go make use of my possessions, all this talking has made me rather hungry from a grown up session.” His voice was thick with taunting. ‘“I’m sure I’ve got one with lovely caramel skin like yourself.” Vera clenched her jaw at that, screwing her eyes shut as shivers ran up and down her body. She was unable to stop them.

“They’re their own people, you have no right to their bodies.” Emma’s voice was beginning to show anger to match how Vera felt. 

“They’re cattle.” A pause. Emma’s voice was pained and reluctant, as if she were about to swallow bitter medicine. 

“Tsuru. Go ahead.” 

“Finally.” Tsuru growled in disgust. It was as if a dog had been let off its leash. The following minutes consisted of furiously loud thuds and grunts. Fist hitting face, foot kicking stomach. Vera took a few steps away from where she’d been listening, her arms and hands shaking violently, her legs felling like hollow tree stumps about to collapse beneath her. She wasn’t sure how she felt; if she was happy, if she was sad. She just wanted this to end, to be rid of this place. She wanted the noise to stop. She wanted some quiet, a jam jar, and that blissful popping noise it makes when opened. 

At last she heard Puren Yulg moan out an address. Tsuru hit him one more time. “You’re disgusting.” He said. Then the door creaked open. The hallway was empty. Brown Eyes was already gone.

Vera re-grouped with Tsuru and Emma outside. 

“Did you get an address?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know. Tsuru’s hands were bruised, his face flushed and breathing laboured. Emma gave a curt nod, her own face pale. 

“Yeah.” 

“Great. Let’s get out of here.” Vera huffed. Emma gave another nod and said, as if it was all she could say. 

“Yeah.”

 

Vera’s alarm went off at 7:00 o'clock. She was awake before it sounded. She’d been awake ever since they’d got back. Sleep had eluded her. Her thoughts had been muddled, her heart beat uneven. It was the smell of the building above all else that she couldn’t shake off. It clung to her skin, clawed its way down her throat and refused to leave like a parasite. Smoke, snow, cement. Cold and sharp smells of the night buzzed through the air of that place. Now they buzzed around Vera’s head. 

Brown Eyes turned her alarm clock off and looked around her small room. She pulled the draw of her bed side table open a crack, catching sight of a sliver of the syringe within, then abruptly shut it. Just looking at it made her want to take it. She remained still, then in one swift movement rose from her bed. 

The ground outside was lathered in snow, it hadn’t stopped falling since last night. 

“Didn’t sleep?” Tsuru asked as Vera, dressed and alert, walked into the dining room. He was sitting at the table by the bay window, an untouched bowl of cereal in front of him and a messy heap of papers scattered around the floor at his feet. Vera was silent as her eyes went from one piece of paper to the next in distaste. _Such a lack of order._ She still hadn’t forgiven Tsuru for his words yesterday, and his untidiness wasn’t helping. Tsuru gave his head a shake, “I’m sorry, Vera.” He murmured. “I shouldn’t have said what I did to you. It was cruel.” 

“It’s fine.” Vera cut in. She didn’t want to hear an apology from Tsuru. It felt wrong, even if she was upset with him. To be honest, she was touched their argument had been the first thing his mind had thought of, and stubbornly felt forgiveness swell within her. “I was worried about you.” She said, after a beat, referencing how he and Conner had risked their lives distracting the rebellion. Tsuru looked up at Vera, he was clearly surprised at her words. “Don’t let it go to your head, I’ll tell you what I told Emma, it’s the proximity. I’ve grown accustomed to your presence.” Tsuru smirked and Vera was already deeply regretting her words. “Actually, I take it back. I wish they’d given you two black eyes instead of one.” 

“Can it be?” Tsuru began, his voice laced in sarcasm so thick Vera knew she’d made a mistake, “That the emotionless brick has found an affection for me?” Vera snorted. 

“I wouldn’t call it that.” 

“If you say so.” Tsuru said, picking up his spoon and starting his cereal, giving her an infuriating wink. Vera flared her nostrils and glared back at him. _He is truly insufferable._ “I’ve called Conner, by the way.” Tsuru’s voice carried to Vera as she marched her way towards the kitchen. She was feeling peckish herself. 

“And?” She asked, pouring milk into her bowl before grabbing the packet of cereal Tsuru had so messily left out on the counter. Unlike Tsuru, she neatly returned the packaging to its proper location once she was finished with it. Tsuru was silent. Vera turned around, “Tsuru?” She prodded him. 

“Did you just pour the milk first?” Tsuru whispered, as if his voice would summon a demon were he too loud. Vera’s posture gave out in annoyance. 

“There are more important things to discuss than the order in which I prepare my breakfast.” Vera retorted. There was a loud thumping as someone, presumably Emma, ungracefully made their way down the stairs. 

“You poured the milk first?” Emma’s voice called as she entered the sitting room, her face horrified. She was in her pyjamas, she clearly hadn’t taken the time to get dress, and the right blue silk strap of her top had slid its way down her arm. Vera felt a flush creeping up her face and looked defensively down at her bowl. 

“This is a discussion for another time.” She reinforced. 

“I can’t believe we never noticed.” Emma breathed, looking at Tsuru in shock. 

“It explains so much though. The bad attitude, the sulking.”

“The general grumpiness.” Emma laughed.

“When you two are quiet finished,” Vera huffed, walking over to the table in the bay window. Tsuru knew the drill by now, getting up and swapping chairs so Vera could sit in her preferred one. “I was wanting to know whether Conner is planning on joining us.” 

“He is.” Tsuru nodded. Emma tiredly shuffled her way over to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning along the way. Vera tried not to stare after her. She failed. 

“When?” Vera asked, pulling her eyes off the unfairly attractive girl to look down at her cereal and take a spoonful. 

“In about half an hour. Enough time to get dressed.” 

“Hm.” Vera murmured as she ate. She swallowed, “Where is Mr Hiller?” She asked. Tsuru stilled, then pulled some paper from the heap on the floor. “You better clear that up afterwards.” Vera muttered.

“Yes, mum.” Tsuru grumbled as he shuffled through some more. He pulled out a small map and put it on the table. “For once,” He announced, “We’re heading outside of Bochardess.” He paused, then, “Well, it’s not inner Bochardess, at least.” Tsuru turned the map around and pointed at a spot that looked fairly secluded. Emma had rejoined them by this point, a piece of toast in hand. She hadn’t bothered with a plate, opting to use her hand as a catcher for the crumbs instead. 

“You’re both heathens.” Vera grumbled in resignation before taking a closer look at the map. 

“Where abouts is that?” Emma asked, mouth full of toast and _marmonada,_ a Bochardian spread made with oranges. 

It was marmalade. But sweet. Far, far too sweet.

“It’s a bit beyond North Bochardess, high up the hillside.” He paused, re-examining the map, “Correction, right on the side of a hillside.” He paused, squinting his eyes. “That can’t be right.” He muttered. 

“What?” Vera asked, having finished her cereal. She glanced up at Emma, who was dropping crumbs everywhere. “Eat over this, will you?” She pleaded, thrusting her empty bowl into Emma’s hands. She really was starting to feel like their mother. Emma shrugged and took another bite of toast, this time having the decency to lean over the bowl so it could catch the debris. Tsuru tilted his head to the right, then to the left, as if a different angle would explain things. “What?” Vera repeated. 

“It’s just, according to this map this hill has a steep cliff drop right here down into Bochardess,” Tsuru placed his finger on the map, then moved it to point at the building, “but this large building, where Mr Hiller supposedly is, is half on and half off the cliff’s edge.” He let out a breath, “Like its floating in mid-air or something.” Vera’s eyes widened. 

“I know that building.” She breathed, “I’ve heard people talk about it, seen it from a distance, too. It’s like the Library of Definitive Arts.” She looked from Tsuru to Emma, “It was built to praise _Uurgoe_.” Emma stilled, Vera wondered if she was thinking about what happened last time they went into a building like that. _Where I got so close to her._ Vera pushed the thought away. She couldn’t allow herself to think about what nearly happened there, or else she might try to do it again. She’d leant so closely towards Emma, she still remembered what the girl’s breath had felt like on her lips. And then she didn’t remember, because she couldn’t allow herself to. “This building is different.” She continued, ignoring the pain in the pit of her stomach. “It’s in tribute to _Uurgoe,_ yes, but it has more of a focus on water, not light, so thankfully our investigation isn’t dependent on the sun being out.” 

“I couldn’t find any photos of the building this time.” Tsuru said, “It’s going to be much harder to plan how we get in.” 

“How much do you know about this place?” Emma asked, taking a final bite of her toast. 

“Not much.” Vera furrowed her brow in thought, “But I reckon if you get me within sight of the place I can work out a way in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and support, it's so lovely to see! I hope you're all enjoying the story!


	15. Chapter 14

** Chapter 14 **

Conner’s tiny yellow car wasn’t exactly subtle, so they’d parked a little ways away from the building. It was very imposing indeed. It didn’t look anything like the Library of Definitive Arts. It was large, square, with plain white walls and large open windows. The sun gleamed off of them, its reflection preventing Vera from being able to see inside the building itself. Or perhaps the glass was tinted. Either way, Vera had little clue as to what was inside. 

She was crouched with a pair of binoculars Conner had stashed in the car’s glove compartment and was eyeing the place over. Conner was back in the car with Tsuru, who was giving him a briefing on his role in the plan; the get away driver. 

“So, I’m not coming in with you?” He’d sounded offended.

“You’re uniform is a dead give away.” Tsuru pointed out. The Bochardian police uniform was an ugly orange jacket and black t-shirt. There was no disguising it. 

“I can change.” 

“We need a driver, and you’re the only one who can drive.” Tsuru had lied. Vera had a license. Conner didn’t know that though. 

“I saw you drive a motorcycle.” Conner had objected. Tsuru shrugged, smiling guiltily,

“I never strictly speaking passed my test.” He admitted. Vera wasn’t sure if _that_ was a lie. Conner had grumbled something about arresting him, but ultimately held his peace. Now Tsuru was going over the details with him, and Vera and Emma were crouched by a large patch of grass, looking for a possible way in. 

“I see guards.” Emma said lowly. Vera gave a nod, the binoculars clearly revealed two guards stationed outside the entrance. The tall white wall was broken up only by two large, equally as tall, windows and a heavy brown double door with a large metal bolt slid across it. The interesting part was that the building itself was surrounded by a moat of fast flowing, deep blue water. It was wide and looked deep, though it was hard to tell from the distance. Vera could see two bridges, one on the left of the building, the other to the right. They were small, unassuming white bridges with no railings, but if you wanted to get across they’d do the job. The moat curved inwards towards the building, and disappeared under its walls. It was almost as if the moat went inside of the building, but Vera wasn’t sure if that was just a trick of the architecture or the reality of the structure. Bochardian’s were known for their strange, over the top designs when it came to good old _Uurgoe_. 

“Two guards.” Vera confirmed. “We could take them out, but there could be more inside.” Emma furrowed her brow in thought.

“We could steal their uniform and impersonate them?” Vera shot Emma a disapproving glance.

“That would never work.” 

“We could say we’re visiting?” Emma offered. Vera laughed once, pulling away from the binoculars to look at Emma. 

“Because clearly this place is a massive tourist attraction.” She sniped sarcastically. Emma raised her hands defensively, 

“Hey, the other place seemed pretty popular, I’m just saying.” Vera looked back into the lenses of the binoculars. 

“Yeah, well, the other building, the Library, was in the middle of West Bochardess, this one is hanging half off a cliff.” Vera paused, “Sssh, look, look!” She said, needlessly waving her arm to gain Emma’s already present attention. 

“I wasn’t talking.” Emma muttered, then went mute. Vera handed her the binoculars. A third guard had opened the door and was calling the other two inside. 

“That’s our opportunity.” Vera smiled. 

“What, they’re going on break?” 

“They must be. I imagine they’re so understaffed, and so used to nothing going wrong, that they take it at the same time in the same room and have a good chat. Perfectly distracted.” 

“Um, Vera?” Emma murmured, “You realise they’re going to shut the door behind them. And lock it.” Vera’s face fell. 

“Oh.” Was all she could say. “Right.” Emma put the binoculars down, a mischievous glint in her eyes, 

“Or,” She began, “We could… deal with those three guards and _take their uniforms_.” Vera’s expression was unimpressed. 

“Do you just really want to dress up as a guard?” Vera asked. She couldn’t blame Emma, the uniform was nice looking. The jackets were almost entirely black, with thin white stripes on the sleeves and the cuffs, and two down the front on the right hand side. The trousers were a bright white and the shoes a shiny brown. Very ordered, very clean, very neat. All good components of a good uniform. 

“No!" Emma protested, and Vera was surprised to find herself slightly disappointed. “I just think it’s the best way in.” Vera narrowed her eyes at that. _Perhaps she has a point._ Emma tilted her head, “Thinking face.” She commented. Vera shot her a warning glance and the girl went silent. The issue was that even in uniform they wouldn’t look right. Perhaps Vera and Tsuru could pull it off, but Emma looked far too coddled. Not that Vera was complaining, she rather liked Emma’s more human appearance, but that’s the way things were. Guards don’t look as soft and gentle and luxuriously curved and as, well, _Emma_ as Emma does. Emma let out a sigh. “The third guard’s gone, I guess he wasn’t calling them in for a break. And now we don’t have three uniforms to steal.” Vera broke out into a smile, 

“We won’t need three.” She murmured. Emma looked at her in surprise. 

“No?”

“No.”

“We’re not impersonating them?” 

“ _You’re_ not.” 

“But you are?”

“Yes.” 

“And-”

“Emma, this is the moment where we sit silently and soak in the glory of a plan well concocted. It is not a time for questions.” Vera said. Emma went silent. It only lasted a moment, 

“But my idea helped?” She ventured. Vera looked at Emma very slowly, then gave the minutest incline of her head. 

“I suppose.” She relented. Vera knew what was coming, and it was both heaven and hell when it did. Emma broke out in a smile, one of her most pure kinds, where her teeth show and her nose crinkles and her eyes narrowed just that perfect little bit. Vera found herself staring back stupidly, frozen in place. If Medusa could turn a man to stone with her ugliness, Emma could melt Vera to liquid with her beauty. 

The girl in question cautiously raised her hand up and Vera looked at it. 

“High five.” Emma explained. Vera stilled, for a moment she was certain she’d reject this petty form of celebration, a needless physical interaction. But then, in spite of herself, and almost against her own will, she very slowly raised her hand and lazily patted it against Emma’s. It was quite possibly the worst high five of all time, but Emma looked over the moon. 

“Happy?” Vera asked. Emma nodded, that stupid smile still plastered over her face, and Vera didn’t know what to do with herself. 

 

“This is a stupid idea, made by stupid people, for stupid people.” Tsuru moaned in protest. Vera was crawling along the floor at the front of the group, Tsuru, Emma and Conner close behind her. 

“Shut up.” Vera snapped. They didn’t want the guard to hear them, it was preferable to hold the element of surprise. Tsuru let out a hiss of pain. 

“What?” Emma asked, turning back to look at Tsuru. 

“Thistle.” He explained. 

“Oh.”

“Will you two be quiet!” Vera said in frustration. They were getting closer to the guards. They were approaching from the left, both of the guards were facing slightly away from them, but that would quickly change if idiots kept on making idiot noises. 

This step of the plan was simple, make their way towards the guards without being seen, then over power them. 

They quietly crossed over the small stone bridge to the left of the building, as of yet undetected. Vera was a few yards from the first guard when she stopped crawling and slowly got to her feet. She held out her hand, balled into a first. She waited a few moments whilst everyone got themselves ready, then she opened her hand wide. Within a second of signalling the others Vera had kicked off the ground with her legs, leaping toward the first guard. She impacted with him and they both fell with a thud to the ground, the guard breaking Vera’s fall. The other guard took a second to take in what had happened, then went to call for help, reaching for what Vera presumed was a gun. A spike of fear shot through her but was quelled as Tsuru, a blur of red and obnoxious black sunglasses, raced past, tackling the second guard to the floor. Vera turned her attention to her own opponent. 

She raised her fist and went to punch him but he beat her to it, landing a solid blow on her stomach. Vera let out a gasp as the air was hit from her. The guard struck her again and she fell from on top of him to the side. Brown Eyes was a second away from recovering and hitting back, but she had no need to. 

Emma jumped onto of the guard, grabbed his hands and pulled them tightly behind him. Emma forced the guard to his feet, keeping him locked in position. The guard struggled and opened his mouth to scream for help, but Vera was faster. She landed a kick in his stomach, winding him and any cries he may have made. She followed up with a blow to the head, and then another one, and another, until she was satisfied that he was unconscious. Emma let the man go, taking a few slow steps backwards as he crumpled to the floor, clearly disturbed at what had just happened. Vera sucked in a few breaths, casting a worried look at Emma. “It’s okay,” She assured her, stepping over the guard towards Emma, holding out her hand, “He’s just unconscious, not dead.” Emma was still, then she gave a slow nod, letting out a sharp breath. 

“Right.” She said. Finally she took notice of Vera’s outstretched hand. “High five?” She asked in confusion, “Now’s not really the-”

“No.” Vera said, “I thought you might appreciate a hand, if you were feeling anxious about…” She glanced down at the unconscious man, “That.” Emma was still. Tsuru had successfully knocked the other guard out, and he and Conner were busy talking to each other about where to hide the bodies. Emma looked up at Vera, as if she was about to cry, and smiled. In a few steps she was next to Vera, rejecting the hand in favour of a hug. She wrapped her arms around Vera and gave her a squeeze. Brown Eyes stood awkwardly, then looked down at Emma. She slowly put her arms around the shorter girl, giving her back a soft pat. Emma let out a laugh,

“You’re strange.” She muttered, pulling away. “I feel better though, thank you.” Vera gave her a small smile that vanished when Tsuru began talking. 

“When you two are quite finished,” He said teasingly. Vera glared at him, clenching her jaw. “We have some new outfits to try on.” 

Conner dragged the de-robed men to a bush where he left them. They would wake up cold and confused in only their underwear, and probably within the next half an hour. Time was of the essence. “Catch.” Tsuru said, chucking a crumpled up uniform to Vera. She caught it, despite the awful throw, and shook it out, getting rid of the dreadful state Tsuru had balled it into. _No respect for folding._ Vera grumbled in her head. She considered folding an art form in its own right, one that evidently needed more appreciation. Vera looked from Emma to Tsuru. 

“Look away.” She said expectantly. Tsuru rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, I have no intention of perving on you, Vera.” 

“I know that.” Vera hissed indignantly, “I just want privacy, that’s all.” 

“Well, there is no need to worry, I was planning on changing behind a bush anyway.” He paused, looking around. There was only one bush in sight, the one they’d hidden the guards behind. His face fell. “Guess I’m changing with the corpses.” He grumbled. Emma startled,

“I thought they were just unconscious?” She asked fearfully. Tsuru smiled adoringly at her, 

“Oh, Emma, never change.” He murmured, ruffling her hair, “Well, maybe learn the meaning of hyperbole first, but then stay as you are.” Tsuru walked off towards the bush, Vera watching him with a furrowed brow. Emma looked with concern at Vera. Brown Eyes looked down at her, then, 

“He wasn’t being serious about the corpses.” She explained, Emma gave a nod of relief, 

“Right.” She said, sounding embarrassed, “Of course.” Emma stood there for a few moments. Vera looked at her expectantly. “What?” She asked, then, “Oh, right.” and turned around to face away from Vera. 

“Thank you.” Vera said in mild agitation. Conner walked over to Emma, facing away as well. Vera began to change. 

“How come you’re down here with us?” Emma asked as Vera pulled her turtle neck up over her head. Vera paused, thinking it an odd question to ask, until she realised Emma was asking it of Conner, not her. Conner shrugged,

“Tsuru said it would be a good idea if I took their clothes back to the car for them, so they wouldn’t have to waste time doing it themselves.” He explained. Emma nodded. 

“Makes sense.” Vera neatly folded her turtle neck and trousers. It felt incredibly wrong to be standing in the middle of a giant field, near a massive building, in only her pants and bra. The wind only made her feel more cold and exposed. She quickly reached for the guards uniform. “You done?” Emma asked, glancing over her shoulder. She abruptly turned away. “Never mind.” Vera startled and held the guard’s jacket in front of her chest, as if it could undo what Emma had seen. A blush crept up the back of Vera’s neck. 

“Emma, what was the one thing I asked you to do?” 

“I’m sorry!” Emma squeaked, “I didn’t mean to!” Vera grumbled something and pulled the black jacket with thin white stripes around herself, fastening the buttons at the front. She reached down for the white trousers. “For the record, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, you look fine.” 

“That’s not the point. Wait, we are not having this conversation.” 

“More than fine, I mean, so you don’t have to be embarrassed-”

“Emma, stop.”

“Attractive even, I’d say so anyway, I-” Conner came to the babbling girls rescue, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Deep breaths, Emma, let sleeping dogs lie.” Vera put the white trousers on and pulled them closed around her waist. They were a little large, but they would do. She finished by removing her beanie and replacing it with the guard’s black and white cap. 

“Thank you, Conner.” Vera said, trying to ignore how much she’d loved Emma’s flustered talk; she needed to focus on the task at hand. 

Tsuru came out from behind the bush with the rifle they’d taken from Marcai strapped over his back. The guards uniform fit him perfectly. He gave a small strut, 

“I know.” He boasted. Vera breathed out of her nose in annoyance, 

“Can you be serious for one second, and take off those ridiculous sunglasses.” She snapped, grabbing for them. Tsuru ducked his head away, 

“Hey, I like these glasses.”

“They aren’t a part of the uniform.” Vera argued. Tsuru pouted but Brown Eyes held her ground. 

“Fine.” Tsuru took his sunglasses off and, with his own clothes in a crumpled ball, handed them to Conner. Vera also deposited her own, carefully folded, clothes to Conner, stacking them on top of Tsuru’s clothes. The assortment of garments rose up to Conner’s chin and he had to reposition his arms a few times to hold it all. His eyes widened as if he’d remembered something. He grabbed onto the clothes with his left hand and, slowly, took his right hand off of them. 

“What are you doing?” Vera asked in confusion. Conner fumbled with his gun’s holster around his waist, then pulled it off. He handed the holster to Vera, a small black hand gun safely tucked inside. 

“This is stupid,” He muttered to himself, then, “I hope you know how to use this.” Vera carefully took the gun from him and strapped it around her waist. “Be careful with that, I’m going to need it back. I’m trusting you here.” 

“I’ll only use it if necessary.” She promised, honoured by his gesture. Conner nodded, putting his right hand back around the clothes. He looked worried for them. 

“See you in a bit.” He huffed around the clothes, then set off for the car, trying not to drop anything. Vera watched after him, then snapped into action, grabbing Emma’s arms and twisting them behind her back. Emma didn’t yelp, Vera had done it in the most gentle way possible. 

“Alright, prisoner,” Vera murmured, “Let’s take you to Mr Hiller.” Vera nodded at Tsuru, who pushed on the door. It was locked. 

“What now?” Emma asked. Vera motioned her head towards the door,

“Knock.” 

“Are you insane?” Tsuru asked. “The plan was to sneak by and hope no one would pay attention to us, if they open the door and look us in the face they’ll know we’re not one of them.” Tsuru was right, the guards were most likely understaffed given they could only spare two for the door, they would know exactly who was and who was not working as a guard. 

“I’m going to improvise, just knock.” Tsuru let out a low whistle, 

“I’m running the second shots are fired.” He disclaimed, rapping his knuckles against the old wood. They waited patiently and within the minute they heard a bolt slide open. The door was pulled wide and a guard stared out at them. His eyes shot to Emma, then to Vera and Tsuru, caps pulled low over their faces to hide their youthful looks. 

“What the hell is this?” He asked, gesturing at Emma, he clearly recognised her, “Is that…?” Vera nodded. 

“Emma Chavez.” Vera said in a low voice. She thought she was imagining it, but Emma seemed to react to her own name, her back tensing. The guard was shocked, his mouth hung open, 

“How… what..?” He stammered, then, having a better look around, “Hey, where did Halide and Jjuelg go?” He asked, his face turning suspicious. Vera stalled for just a second too long so Tsuru cut in. 

“One of our men, Puren, was injured in the scuffle to grab Emma. We brought him with us but he only made it to that hill over there.” Tsuru lied, pointing towards the horizon. “We promised we’d personally bring Emma to Mr Hiller ourselves, so we asked…” Tsuru struggled with their names, “Haaa-liiiideeeeeh and Jjjjjuuelguuuh,” The guard looked mildly offended, “to go and help him. They should be back with him in ten minutes or so.” 

“What happened to Puren?” The guard asked. Vera glanced at Tsuru. 

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” Tsuru said darkly. The guard wasn’t fazed, he laughed, even, 

“Yeah, Puren can be like that, can’t he?”

“Sir, if you don’t mind, this is urgent.” Vera cut in, holding Emma’s small wrist’s behind the girls back. The guard stopped his laughing, looking embarrassed.

“Right, of course, follow me.” He stammered. He led them inside the building. “I assure you, we pride ourselves on a high level of professionalism in this division, as I’m sure your division does as well.” Vera nodded in a serious manner, faking interest. 

“Naturally…” Vera’s words fell away from her as they walked into the building. The moat had indeed continued inside, and as they ascended a tall white staircase the floor fell away from them on either side, sloping down towards where the moat rushed past. The water made a gushing noise that echoed around the chamber. The arched, white ceiling bounced the sound around their ears. Vera anxiously looked over the edge of the walkway. No railings stood between her and a short drop into the dark, churning waters. _One of us is going to end up in there._ She worried, _I just know it._ Vera looked over at Tsuru, who was busy admiring the architecture. 

“Impressive.” He breathed. The guard in front glanced over his shoulder at them,

“What, you never been stationed here before?” he asked. Vera and Tsuru shook their heads. “Unlucky. Easy days, pretty scenery.” They reached the end of the long walkway. It split into two paths, one going straight ahead to another, smaller, wooden door, another going left towards an open arch way through which Vera could just about make out a break room, and what looked like a command centre for the building. The place wasn’t as understaffed as she’d first thought, she could see at least ten guards relaxing in there, some huddled around and chatting, others playing table tennis. _Not understaffed,_ She realised, _Lazy. Complacent._ “Mr Hiller’s chambers are through there.” The guard gestured at the door, “It should be open.” The guard began walking away towards the front door. 

“Why are there no railings?” Vera called after him, taking a fearful step away from the edge of the platform. The guard began descending the steps towards the front door. 

“No one’s fallen in yet, love.” He explained. Vera’s expression went cold. 

“Don’t call me ‘love.’” She grumbled under her breath. Brown Eyes took another glance at the water below them and found her grip on Emma’s wrists tightening unintentionally. The shorter girl glanced behind herself.

“You okay?” She asked as Tsuru made his way towards the brown door that led to Mr Hiller’s chambers. 

“Fine.” Vera answered through gritted teeth, pushing Emma after Tsuru. 

“You seem on edge.” _Because I’m too close to the edge._

“I said I’m fine.” 

“Can you not swim or something?” Emma asked jokingly. Vera was silent. “You can swim, can’t you?”

“Prisoner’s don’t usually talk this much.” Vera cut across her, shame edging her words. Vera had grown up by the coast, for _Uurgoe’s_ sake. But she couldn’t help it if the frothy waters set the hairs on her back on end. Emma glanced towards the edge, 

“If you go in, I’ll jump after you.” Emma tried to reassure her.

“You better not.” Vera said sternly. Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Tsuru had opened the door and Vera pushed Emma after him. The three of them found themselves unable to talk at all once they’d entered, and the door behind them slowly closed as they stood stunned at what they saw. 

The room was an immensely large semi circle with a spiral staircase leading up to a walkway that encircled the domed ceiling, allowing for the lower level to be viewed from above. Curved around in front of them were immensely large, connected windows over looking the city of Bochardess. The tall buildings of the banking district in West Bochardess gleamed from the sun. The smaller grey apartments, and even in the distance the cold district, where all lathered in day light. The city looked almost gentle, if Vera didn’t know better she would say it was a nice place to live. _If you have money._ She added resentfully. 

The windows were the sort of windows you might see in a large fish tank at an aquarium. It soon struck Vera just why those windows were so large. The white floor cut short and didn’t reach the windows, instead there was a gap where the moat, a few feet below them, raced past. The windows descended below the water level and presumably underneath the water as well, allowing sunlight to shine up through the water from below, casting churning patterns of sun beams on the white domed ceiling in magnificent yellows and golds. Why the building was on the edge of a cliff suddenly made sense; so the water could have real light shine up from underneath it. So _Uurgoe’s_ creation could filter through the water in glorious patterns.

“Oh, my god…” Emma breathed. 

“These _Uurism_ dudes need to chill.” Tsuru said, hand gripped around the rifle’s strap over his shoulder. Vera had only taken a moment to be mesmerised by the ingenuity of the room before she was casting her gaze across the space for signs of Mr Hiller. There was a brown oak desk in the middle of the room, on top of a large bear skin rug. Pens and papers were neatly organised on the desk, but no man sat at the red leather seat positioned behind it. Vera looked at the spiral stair case; no one. Then she craned her neck and looked upward. A man, short and large, was peering down at them from the balcony. His green waist coat just fitting around his stomach.

“I have guests.” He commented, seemingly more to himself than to them. The observing deck, where Mr Hiller was, was covered in streaks of amber and gold as light darted around it like a flock of birds, shifting direction and intensity faster than Vera’s eyes could see. Mr Hiller himself was obscured by the sheer brightness. 

“Yeah, you do.” Tsuru replied. Mr Hiller lent over the balcony a bit more, suddenly intrigued. He took hold of his tiny spectacles and repositioned them, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Sweet sunlight…” He murmured, “ _Uurgoe_ has brought me a gift.” He shoved himself away from the balcony edge, shuffling as quickly as he could, given the low ceiling up there, towards the spiral staircase. He huffed and puffed his way down, idling every few steps to get a new holding on the bannister. He reached the bottom and, once again, readjusted his glasses. “If the descriptions are correct, I’d say that was Emma Chavez.” 

“The descriptions are correct.” Vera nodded, having assumed the first guard recognised Emma due to knowledge of Emma’s appearance being shared around the rebellion. 

“Actually,” Emma cut in, “The descriptions weren’t entirely right, I’m even more good looking than they claim.” Vera’s gaze snapped onto Tsuru angrily. He raised his hands defensively, 

“What?”

“That was your doing.” Vera growled, “Your arrogance has rubbed off on her.” Tsuru laughed, 

“I’m almost proud.” 

“What’s going on?” Mr Hiller murmured, taking a few steps towards his desk. “What do you mean ‘rubbed off on her’?” His reached blindly behind him, feeling for his desk, not taking his now suspicious eyes off of them. The three of them startled. Emma let out a tired sigh,

“We couldn’t stop banting for just five minutes, could we?” 

“‘We’?” Mr Hiller repeated, “What do you mean, ‘we?’” His hand made contact with the desk, and he reached behind it, underneath it, even. Vera’s eyes tracked his hand nervously, she was sure any second he’d bring a gun out and she found herself frozen in place. _This is about to go south._ Tsuru hadn’t noticed, or maybe he’d chosen to ignore the possible danger. Either way, He stepped forward, in front of Vera and Emma, his demeanour calm, 

“We bonded along the way, she’s a bit of a character, like her uncle.” He paused, “Speaking of which, do you know where Matt Chavez is? I’m sure he’ll want to say hi to his niece.” Tsuru added, trying to casually bring Emma’s relative into the subject. 

“Smooth.” Emma droned sarcastically. Mr Hiller’s face shifted at the word ‘Uncle’, as if his suspicions had been confirmed. His hand moved quickly, latching onto something beneath the desk, but it wasn’t a gun. In fact, Mr Hiller removed his hand from under the desk entirely empty. Tsuru tensed, as if he’d been expecting a bullet. That’s when it occurred to Vera that perhaps, just perhaps, Tsuru had deliberately put himself between a possible gun and Vera and Emma. _No, he wouldn’t do that._ She assured herself, _He’s selfish, he’d never._ But a stubborn emotion of gratitude and fellow feeling was already clawing its way up her chest. She pushed it down, there was something more important at hand. 

“He hit a panic button.” Vera explained swiftly, putting two and two together, “We need to move.” 

“But we have to find Matt.” Emma protested, “Give me a minute, I can get it out of him.” Vera shook her head, 

“We won’t be able to find Matt if we’re dead, Emma.” 

“Just a minute, please!” She protested. Vera looked up at Tsuru, who looked back, both of them hoping for an answer from the other. Tsuru pursed his lips, 

“We can hold them off at the door, be quick Emma.” He said. Vera, realising she'd been holding onto Emma’s wrists far longer than had been required, let them go. Emma dashed forward towards Mr Hiller, who looked very frightened, as if Emma were a charging bear and not a small girl. Vera stretched her hands a few times as she and Tsuru walked towards the oak door. She found herself missing the feeling of Emma’s warm skin on her fingertips. Tsuru swung the rifle over his shoulder, checking it was loaded, the rifle clicking and clanking beneath his hands as he worked it. “Right,” He said, bracing himself against the door, “We hold this thing shut as long as we can, then find another way out of here.” 

“There isn’t another way, we’ll have to run past them to get to the front door.” Vera reminded him, “There are no bannisters, we could shove them into the water.” Tsuru looked at her sceptically, 

“You and I both know there are too many of them to do that. We’re gonna have to find another way out.” 

“There is no other way.” Vera protested. The door moved slightly, shouts could be heard on the other side. Vera shoved the bolt across it to lock it, then put her own body against the thing to hold it in place. Her heart was racing. She pushed down panicked thoughts and looked over at Emma, “How’s it going?” She called to her. Emma glanced at her desperately, 

“Thirty more seconds!” She pleaded. Brown Eyes felt a jolt through the door, the men were throwing all they had into it. She let out a grunt and tried using her legs to hold herself against it. She gave a resigned nod to Emma, hoping she could get what they needed in time. 

Emma turned her green eyes on Mr Hiller. She surveyed him, looking him up and down, calculating, choosing a point of entry to push. As strong as a dam may be, if you struck hard enough on one of its cracks soon all the water would come gushing through. 

Emma focussed in on the glass surrounding the room. She seemed to have an idea, but Vera wasn’t sure what it was. “Vera, I need your gun.” She cried urgently, turning around and hurrying back over to her. Mr Hiller’s face went pale in terror. “Not like that, old man.” Emma snapped. Vera quickly pulled the gun from her holster, and held it out to Emma. 

“You’re not going to shoot him, are-” Vera was cut off as the door was hit once again, jerking forward. Tsuru and Brown Eyes let out grunts of surprise before pushing their backs against the door once more. “are you?” Vera finished, irritated at the interrupted sentence. It felt awful on her tongue. Emma tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow at Vera. Brown Eyes gave a nod, “Stupid question.” She agreed. Emma wouldn’t hurt a fly. _Not physically, anyway._ She watched as Emma walked back to Mr Hiller, her demeanour had done that thing again, it had shifted into this confident, clever persona of Emma. So calm and yet terrifying, ready to strike at any moment. A snake coiled back, about to burst into attack. It was brilliant to behold, how this girl worked on people, made them spill their secrets. Above the roar of the water and the crash of men trying to open the door she heard Emma speak, a quiet hiss in the chaos. 

“You’re going to tell me where my uncle is,” She cocked the gun and, with more authority than Vera had ever seen the girl hold, she pointed it at the windows, “Or all that water is going over the cliff.” She tutted a few times, “What will _Uurgoe_ think of you then?” Mr Hiller huffed, 

“You think a bullet can break that?” Emma put a hand on her hip, leaning to one side. She smiled tauntingly, 

“Why don’t we find out?” She pulled the trigger and a bullet smashed into the glass, leaving a large web of cracks behind. Mr Hiller gave a self assured nod,

“See.” 

“Okay, so _a_ bullet can’t break it.” Emma said casually, leaning backwards and looking the gun over in her hand with sharp green eyes. She re-aimed it at the windows, “How about two?” She shot again, hitting decently close to the same spot, but it was at point blank range. _She’s got style, but not aim._ Vera cringed. Mr Hiller glanced over his shoulder, the cracks were beginning to connect. “Maybe three.” Emma shot again. More cracks. “Four?” Another bang. The shouts from behind the door were becoming more urgent. Vera looked at Tsuru anxiously. She wasn’t sure how much longer they could hold. “How about five?” The glass looked like it was ready to shatter. 

“I don’t know where he is!” Mr Hiller cried, getting onto his knees, “Please don’t, _Uurgoe_ gave us light to live, don’t destroy that!” Emma looked down at him, then let out a growl, 

“You’re lying!” She yelled in frustration, shooting another bullet into the glass. The panels let out a whine as they shifted in position. Vera was sure Mr Hiller was telling to truth, his desperate demeanour screamed ‘coward’, not ‘liar’. “Where is he!” Vera couldn’t see Emma’s face, but her voice was strained and sounded on the verge of tears. The snake had melted into a desperate beast, crying at the sky. 

Emma looked as if she was about to fire again, and Vera was certain this time the glass would break. 

“Emma, don’t!” Tsuru cut in, “We need the moat in tact if we’re getting out of here alive.” Vera’s heart skipped a beat as she processed his words. She looked at him in panic, 

“Are you crazy!” She hissed. Emma lowered the gun and came back over to them. The door hadn’t moved for the past few seconds and it had given Vera a bad feeling.

“Tsuru, we can’t.” Emma protested, quickly putting the gun back into the holster on Vera’s waist, “I’m sorry, we should have left sooner. But there has to be another way, Vera can’t…” Emma went quiet as the three of them heard a high pitched beeping from the other side of the door. Vera looked from Tsuru to Emma in panic before she lurched forward, wrapping her arms protectively around Emma as she went, and jumped as far away from the door as she could. Tsuru leapt after them, a few seconds behind. The door burst open with a sudden bang. 

An eruption of heat hit Vera’s back and she felt a shock wave rock through her. It had only been a minor explosion, no massive fireball, the door was entirely intact even, only the bolt had been pushed off, and yet Vera’s whole body was screaming in protest. She let out a gasp as she got up off the floor, her arms and legs feeling shaky. Her body must have shielded Emma from the damage as the smaller girl looked entirely unharmed. Despite their limited time, Vera still found herself glancing over the girl, just to make sure. 

“The water, now!” Tsuru yelled, “I’ll hold them off!” He was getting to his feet, taking aim with the rifle at the doorway. The guards must have been standing back from the explosion, as none of them had entered yet. Vera got to her feet, Emma close behind her. 

“Tsuru, we can push past them.” Vera stubbornly insisted, her heart clamouring at the idea of having to go into the water. Tsuru looked from Vera to the doorway in panic. 

“We don’t have time for this.” Tsuru hissed under his breath. In one swift movement he placed a hand on Vera’s chest and shoved her. He was surprisingly strong, and he’d taken her quite by surprise.

“Tsuru, Vera can’t swim!” Emma shrieked. Vera only managed to hear the beginnings of Emma’s sentence while she was in free fall, and then the water hit. Or perhaps a better way of putting it was that Vera hit the water. _Called it._ She thought bitterly as she was consumed by cold and light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story! More soon!


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter may be upsetting to certain readers. Please keep this in mind.

**Chapter 15**

Vera collided with the water and the liquid consumed her like some great beast’s gaping mouth. It was as if she’d been transported into another plane of existence. Her senses were muted and her limbs felt frozen, the current was gripping at her and sweeping her along. _I have to grab onto something._ She told herself, trying to remain calm, but there was nothing to grab. Vera forced her eyes open and they stung against the cold water. It was as if she were in a great ocean, the water glowing with sunlight that darted around her like shoals of tropical fish, the creaks of the buckling windows the cry of distant whales. It was as gorgeous as it was terrifying, and all consuming. 

Vera was painfully aware of her inability to take a breath, and her mind mentally kept track of the time ticking by. Each second more terrifying than the last. How long she had before she’d need more air was excruciatingly monitored. 

It suddenly hit Vera just what was happening. This wasn’t a dream, it was real. She was being tossed around like a twig in a river, unable to reach the surface, unable to breathe. _Am I going to die?_ Fear seized her. In a panic she tried kicking out with her legs, but she had no clue what to do, no clue how to swim. It was helpless. The fast flowing water paid her attempts no attention and coldly rolled her over and over. 

Vera heard a loud crash as something else entered the water, and then she heard a few muted pops, which she realised where gunshots. Amongst the bright she could make out a shape, a person. _Emma?_ And then everything went dark. 

The moat was pulling her into the corridor that led to the front door. No more sunlight lit the water, instead there was just a dark, emotionless churning. _Not long now._ Vera told herself as the water pulled her downward, _Not long now._ She repeated, her thoughts running away from her. But it was too long, her lungs were beginning to melt within her, her head was filled with a dizzying spark. Her thoughts turned to static. 

She reached out for the surface but she wasn’t even sure where the surface was anymore as she was turned over in the dark, thick stream. _Is this it?_ She cried in her head, the most pure feeling of hopelessness and terror gripping her. _This_ is _it._

Then she felt warmth and it shocked through her darkened world. She’d been near death, starved of air, and then suddenly this warmth, this gentleness, had shattered the cold. A hand fastened tightly around her waist, holding onto her as if she was the most treasured person alive, the warmth of the hand searing her skin in the best way. She felt strong kicks and confident movements as she allowed herself to be dragged upwards, forcing herself to hold out for just a few more seconds, to endure the pain for a moment longer. 

She fastened her own arms around the person, latching onto the only thing that made sense in this madness. She wasn’t going to let go. 

Then her head hit the surface, escaping the watery prison, and all her muted senses popped back into action. Vera took a hungry breath of air, her vision clouded with dots and sparks that blurred what she saw, dancing across her vision. Her head was spinning and a pounding headache was starting to take hold. She didn’t know when she’d started shivering but she was, in part from the cold and in part because she’d nearly drowned and her mind was alive with fear. She let out a few sobs as she realised how close things had been, unable to hold them in. 

“It’s okay! Hey, it’s okay, I got you, I got to you!” A voice tried to comfort her. Soft, warm, honest. Vera didn’t know when that voice had become imprinted on her mind, but she recognised it so well. It’s intonation, its innocence. She held on tighter. 

“Emma…” She choked out, tears spilling from her eyes as a few more sobs wracked her body. 

“Not so tight…” Their heads dipped below the surface. Terror shot through Vera like a spear, but Emma kicked as hard as she could and they rose back up. “…Heavy…” Emma gasped, her breath laboured. “…Jacket…” She managed. Vera was confused for a moment before she realised just how much the uniform she was wearing dragged in the water, weighing her down. At some point the white trousers had been pulled down and were tangled around her legs. Vera kicked out and separated herself from them, the sudden loss of weight visibly helped Emma, who let out a grunt of relief. Vera, still whimpering like a fool, looked down at her jacket. She took an arm off of Emma to undo it, but her hand was shaking so much she couldn’t grasp the buttons. She felt herself slip an inch away from Emma and let out a cry of fear, latching both arms back around the girl. “Sshh, it’s okay, leave it.” Emma comforted her. Then, urgently, “We need to dive back under, hold your breath.” Vera’s eyes widened and she shook her head, 

“No, no, no-”

“Yes, _yes_ , we have too. The moat goes below the walls, Vera.” Brown Eyes glanced over her shoulder. The water was pulling them towards the wall, where it disappeared beneath it in a large, yawning black hole. They had a few seconds before they reached it. Emma was keeping them afloat, allowing the water to do most of the work in carrying them. Her voice was calm, “Three,” She counted, “Two.”

“Emma, no. Please!” Vera cried, panic confusing her. She didn’t care what Emma’s reasoning was, she was not going back under. She’d felt so alone and helpless, she was not going through that again. 

“One.” Emma pulled them under. Vera took the largest breath of air she’d ever taken, and then it was dark. 

But it wasn’t cold. 

Emma was holding her tight, moving her thumb back and forth across her back to comfort her. Vera focussed on the warm feeling, held onto it tightly, and then light filled the water as it carried them outside of the building. Emma lifted them back up, and Vera knew they were going to be fine. 

Brown Eyes took another breath as they re-surfaced, her finger nails digging into Emma’s back as she clung on. Her whole body was quaking, her teeth chattering and her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t bring herself to open them. “I’m here, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” Emma reached out to something with her arm, and the current lost it’s hold on them as they came to a halt, the water uselessly dragging past their limbs. “We’re getting out now, it’s okay.” 

“Okay.” Vera managed, her voice choked. Vera felt the edge of the moat against her back and let out a breath. “Okay.” Vera opened her eyes and saw Emma had a firm grip of one of the bridges. The girl used the purchase she had to help lift Vera out of the water. Brown Eyes grabbed onto the shore and hauled herself the rest of the way out. She collapsed onto the floor, lying on her back, and stared up at the sky. The wind was blisteringly cold against her bare, wet skin and the sodden guard’s jacket wasn’t offering any warmth. Emma clambered out of the moat and crawled urgently over to Vera. Vera was looking up at the sky one moment, and then she was looking at something far better. Emma was on all fours above her, looking down with concern. The girl put her hands on either side of Vera’s shivering face. 

“It’s okay.” She reassured the terrified girl. Vera nodded silently. Any second she expected the nausea to hit, for her to shove Emma away from her, for her own body to force her to reject the closeness. Vera furrowed her brow in confusion. There was no nausea. There was no itching or urge to distance herself from Emma. In fact, it was quite the opposite. _It’s gone._ She realised. _Somehow… it’s gone. I don’t feel ill._ The fear that had gripped her washed away, and she smiled, reaching out to Emma. She wrapped her arms around Emma and pulled the girl down towards her. 

She hugged her tightly, putting her head in the girl’s warm shoulder. Emma returned the embrace, holding onto her just as tightly. The girl spoke in the softest, most worried voice. “I thought I wouldn’t get to you in time.” She admitted, whispering quietly into Vera’s ear. She sounded just as scared as Vera had felt. Emma pulled back enough to look Vera in the eyes. “I thought I’d lose you.” Vera realised with a start that tears were in Emma’s eyes. Without thinking she put her thumb to Emma’s cheek, rubbing them away. 

“You didn’t, though. You did it. You saved me.” Emma let out a gasp of relief and smiled, giving her a small nod. 

“Yeah. I did.” Vera felt the strongest urge she’d ever felt. Stronger than her desperation for air earlier. She wanted to lean in close to Emma, take her face in her hands and… and…  
Finally, _finally,_ Vera admitted it to herself. She allowed her mind to say the words, to relent its pretending. Vera knew exactly what she wanted to do, it was something she’d wanted to do for a while. 

_I want to kiss her._ She was more sure of it than anything before. 

_I want to kiss Emma Chavez_ Her mind paused, _Isn’t that wrong?_

Vera looked at Emma, her face so close to hers, her arms wrapped around her. It didn’t feel wrong. 

But the voice persisted. _It’s wrong._ It said, _You’re wrong. Emma is bad for you._ Vera looked at Emma with a pained expression, she didn’t know whether to continue holding onto the girl or to push her away. A flash of confusion graced Emma’s face, she’d picked up on Vera’s conflicted feelings, then the expression settled into what seemed disappointment and anger. “I know the drill.” Emma muttered, getting off of Vera, letting her go. “ ‘Don’t touch me’ right?” Vera’s heart sank. _No!_ She cried inside her head, _You don’t understand!_

Vera was dragged from her thoughts at the sound of more gun shots. Yelling and shouts of panic sounded in the distance, from within the building. Emma pulled her gaze away from Vera, walking to the edge of the moat. _Tsuru!_ Vera cursed herself for getting so easily distracted and scrambled to her feet, ignoring how ridiculous she felt standing in her pants and a jacket. 

Even though Vera believed religion could only ever offer hope, not any real help, she still found herself praying. _Please be okay._ She thought. Emma seemed to be doing much the same, her right hand clutched the small golden cross on her necklace as she scanned the water desperately. “I can’t see him.” Emma called to Vera, who had walked a little further down the moat. _Come on, Tsuru._ Vera heard an engine burst into life. Conner must have spotted them and was presumably driving towards them now. The yells from the building quietened and Vera’s heart sunk. _They shot him._ She thought, _They killed him, why else would the calls have stopped?_ Brown Eyes stepped away from the moat, putting her hands on her head, gripping at her short blonde hair.

“Dammit, Tsuru.” She hissed. 

“There!” Emma called. Vera whipped back around to look at the moat. Below the surface she could make out a shape of red and black.  
“Grab him.” Vera instructed, striding towards the moat again. Emma leant out over the water, Vera stood close behind her, ready to reach out should Emma lose her footing and fall in herself. Tsuru passed below them. “Now!” Emma darted her arm into the water. For a moment Vera was certain Emma couldn’t reach him, that Tsuru would glide past them, gripped in the water. But then Emma began to pull back up and Tsuru’s head broke the surface. 

It took a second for Vera to realise the red around him wasn’t from his obnoxious jacket, after all he’d changed out of that into the uniform. Brown Eyes realised with a sinking feeling that it was blood. Tsuru’s black hair was slicked down to the sides of his face and his eyes were shut tight. He opened his mouth and took a gasping breath. Vera leaned forward and grabbed onto the collar of the black jacket, heaving the man out of the water. 

“Deep breaths.” Emma told him as she got better purchase under the man’s shoulders. A screeching noise sounded behind them as Conner brought his car to a stop. 

“Get in!” He yelled. Tsuru couldn’t walk, his face was incredibly pale and his head lolled to the side. Vera worried he was unconscious. 

“You heard the man.” Tsuru slurred, his teasing words made pathetic by his weak voice, but they were enough to relieve Vera of her worries. Brown Eyes moved fast. She picked Tsuru up, sweeping his legs from under him, a hand below the bend in his legs and one behind his back, and ran to the car. Emma opened the back seat door and Vera shoved Tsuru in. Emma got in after him and Vera hopped in the front. The second she sat down Conner stepped on the accelerator and Brown Eyes was pushed into her seat by the force. The car screeched in protest but drove on none the less. Vera just managed to shut the door before the car rejoined onto the road and sped away from the place. 

“What the hell happened in there?” Conner asked, as the road swerved around a hill and began its long descent towards Bochardess. Just in time, too, as gun shots sounded again, but no amount of bullets could get through a hill. Vera didn’t bother answering Conner, there was no time. 

“Hospital.” She instructed him, then turned to look at Emma and Tsuru in the back seat. The girl had managed to lie Tsuru across the two seats and had squeezed herself into the space between the back seats and the front, looking over Tsuru. Vera spared a brief thought for seat belts and safety, but they didn’t really have a choice. “Was he shot?” Vera asked Emma urgently. Emma looked behind her at Vera and then back at Tsuru hopelessly. There was a lot of blood. Tsuru answered for her, giving his head a small nod. His forehead was covered in sweat and he looked as white as a Bochardian snow fall. “Where?” Vera asked. They needed to stop the bleeding if he was to have any chance. Tsuru was quiet. “Tsuru, where were you shot?” Vera asked again, confused why he wasn’t answering. 

“Just get me to a hospital.” He hissed between gritted teeth. Emma began looking Tsuru over, trying to find the source of the blood. “Stop.” Tsuru protested. Conner gestured at the floor of the car by Vera’s feet, where their clothes were piled,

“Use something to stop the bleeding.” He suggested, driving as fast as he could. The car jolted and Tsuru let out a hiss of pain, cursing under his breath.

“Lower abdomen.” Emma said, finding a bullet hole in the black jacket, and a large patch of blood barely visible against the black material. 

“Take his jacket off and press this against the wound.” Vera instructed, holding out her black beanie that she’d picked from the pile of clothes. Emma took the beanie and tucked it under her arm, then reached out to the buttons of the black jacket to do just that, but Tsuru’s hand shot to her wrist, stopping her. 

“Don’t you dare.” He growled.

“Tsuru, you’re going to die!” Emma protested. 

“Why are you fighting us, Tsuru? We’re trying to help.” Vera added in anger. _I never thought he was this stupid._ Tsuru looked from Emma to Vera, his face was like a mouse that had been cornered by a cat. He shut his eyes and let out a pained breath, releasing Emma’s wrist. 

“Fine.” Emma didn’t waste a second, she undid his jacket, pushing it apart. The bullet wound was small and glistening with fast flowing red liquid and Emma quickly pressed the black beanie onto it. Tsuru let out another hiss, gritting his teeth and balling his fists against the pain. Emma was saying something, but Vera didn’t notice. She was focussed on Tsuru’s chest. On something that she had seen before. 

People like Tsuru weren’t common in Bochardess. Most Bochardian’s didn’t even know people like Tsuru existed, so it was no surprise that Emma hadn’t reacted to it. But Vera had met someone like Tsuru before and was familiar with what was before her. Why Tsuru had been so against them opening the jacket was suddenly clear. 

“We could use those to wrap around the wound.” Emma suggested, Vera finally taking notice of her words. Emma was pointing to Tsuru’s upper chest, where bandages were tightly coiled around him, covering almost all of his upper body. Tsuru looked terrified at the idea, and opened his mouth to protest, but clearly the pain of the wound was getting too much for him. 

“No, we can’t.” Vera answered for him. Tsuru looked at Vera. “That’s his binder.” 

 

Bochardian hospitals were not well funded, nor did they have good sanitary conditions. The wealthy had private care but the poor, the majority of Bochardians, usually stayed home. Medical care was often better in your own bed than in a hospital’s bug ridden one. Bullet wounds, however, were a different story. 

“Careful!” Tsuru hissed as Conner helped him down the corridor, Emma and Vera following with concern after. Vera hadn’t said a word since she’d realised Tsuru wore a binder. She was lost in her own thoughts. _It’s wrong._ One side yelled, _But it’s Tsuru!_ The other protested. Vera knew one thing for sure, she didn’t think Tsuru was wrong, she didn’t think anything about Tsuru needed to change or be fixed. That was precisely what was confusing her. _If my desires are wrong, dirty and against nature, then how come Tsuru isn’t?_ Vera knew the answer, it was because it couldn’t be wrong; it was Tsuru. Tsuru was her friend now. He was insufferable, yes, but he was brave and kind and he was Tsuru. He wasn’t wrong to be himself, no one was. _Then how come it’s wrong for me to be myself?_ Confusion writhed inside of Vera. With all her might she pushed it away. Tsuru had been shot. That was more important. 

Once the nurses saw the state Tsuru was in he was rushed away from them. Vera hoped none of the doctors recognised what a binder was, or the situation could get far more messy. It seemed luck was on their side, as within a few hours a nurse walked over and told them what room Tsuru was being kept in. He didn’t show any disdain in his voice as he spoke of Tsuru, which relaxed Vera. The nurse didn’t have time to lead them to Tsuru’s room as he had to rush off to help another patient. 

Bochardian hospitals were also incredibly understaffed. 

Emma got up first and set off down the corridor, Conner and Vera following. 

“Conner?” Vera said in a hushed voice. Conner glanced at her.

“Hm?”

“About your gun…” The holster and gun had been missing when Vera had got out of the water. She hadn’t realised until later, and reckoned that in trying to ditch the deadweight of the trousers she’d inadvertently kicked off the gun and its holster, too. Tsuru had also come out of the water without the rifle, so Vera figured that had also been lost to the waves. 

“It’s okay, things got hairy in there, you couldn’t have seen it comin’.” Conner waved her concerns away dismissively, “I’ll just get another one.” he sighed. Brown Eyes smiled weakly at him and dipped her head in gratitude. They walked along for a bit more. Vera looked at the orange walls of the hospitals and the white tiled floor. It smelt funny and felt cramped. She swore there were flies, but every time she heard one and turned to look for it there was nothing there. 

Emma swerved to the right through an open archway. It led into a large room with eight beds, four on each side, and one slightly open window, the paint of which was peeling off. 

Tsuru was in the bed nearest the window. His face was pale and covered in sweat despite the cold, and his hair was unkempt and sticking up at odd angles. The guard’s uniform that Tsuru had been wearing was laid messily on the end of the bed, Tsuru himself was dressed in a thin hospital gown. Vera reckoned he must feel cold, given there were no duvets or sheets to warm him. 

Vera had changed back into her dry turtle neck and trousers during the car ride there, and so she didn’t feel the winter so harshly anymore. Conner had given Emma his orange jacket to wear over her drying clothes once Vera had noticed the chattering of the shorter girls teeth and had insisted she be given something to warm her up. By now Emma’s pastel coloured shirt and blue jeans were mostly dry. Tsuru hadn’t noticed them yet, and was sitting himself up with a grim expression on his face. Emma rushed over to him, 

“What are you doing, lie down.” She insisted, helping Tsuru back down. Vera took the moment to re-arrange the uniform on the end of the bed into a neater, folded, pile. The man looked at Emma sceptically.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled. Emma raised an eyebrow,

“You’ve been shot.” She reminded him. Tsuru glanced at Vera. 

“Did you tell them what it is?” he asked. Vera didn’t need to ask to know he was referring to his binder. She shook her head. Words were still eluding her. Tsuru took notice of her silence, looking her up and down, “I see.” He said. All Vera could do was give him a cold look. _He’s alive._ She reminded herself, _He’s safe. That’s all that matters._ But her confusion was already bubbling back to the surface. She forced it down again, looking away from Tsuru and around the room. Conner let out a low breath. 

“Sorry, kiddo, I already knew what it was.” He admitted. “No judgement from me, I have a large family and one of ‘em if just like you.” Conner hesitated, furrowing his brow, “Except, the other way.” Emma looked from Tsuru to Vera to Conner. 

“I am so confused.” She said. Tsuru looked at Conner with interest. Vera wondered if Tsuru had ever met anyone like himself before.

“As in they are female, but were called male?” He asked quietly. Conner nodded, 

“Yeah. Took my family some gettin’ used to. I didn’t even know what it was before Ferb-” Conner cut himself off, “Sorry, Fayleen, told us.” He sighed, “I’m so used to what she used to be called, it’s my bad.” Tsuru shrugged, he went to fold his arms but winced and thought better of it, keeping them at his side. Emma turned to Vera hopefully,

“What are they talking about?” She asked. Vera turned to Emma. She sneered and let out a sharp breath. 

“Leave it.” Was all she could say. Tsuru’s eyes snapped onto her, he’d picked up on the agitation in her voice. 

“Something wrong, Vera?” Tsuru asked, challenging her. Vera folded her own arms, gripping tightly to try and get rid of her frustration. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“No.” 

“I’m still so confused.” Emma pushed, “What do you mean, they were called a male when they were female? How does that relate to Tsuru?” Emma’s eyes widened, “Are you really a girl, Tsuru? Did we misunderstand? I’m sorry if we did, you just looked like a man so I assumed. You could have told us we’d got it wrong, you know.” Tsuru waved his hand dismissively, then winced again, dropping it back to his side. Tsuru was speaking, but Vera’s thoughts were gripping her so tightly she couldn’t breathe, let alone listen.

“No,” Tsuru said. _It’s wrong._ “I am a man,” _It’s wrong._ “you didn’t make a mistake.” _It’s wrong!_ “That’s not it.”

“But are you, Tsuru?” Vera snapped, her words biting. _I’m wrong._ She froze, her own words hitting her. Her stomach sank with self loathing and regret, with anger and confusion and desperation. She felt as if she’d fallen into a jungle and was hanging from the vines, arms and legs coiled tightly in green rope and vegetation. No matter how she kicked or struggled, no matter how she tried to free herself, there were only more vines. Only more self loathing, only more shame.

Tsuru’s gaze was cold, drawing Vera back into the room, back into the present. His expression a careful neutral. Pain joined Vera’s emotions. “Wait, no, I…” Vera stumbled over her words. Conner was looking at her quietly, Emma in confusion. “I mean it’s wrong, no, I mean, it _is_ wrong, but not… I,” 

“Stop muttering, Vera, it’s painful to watch.” Tsuru hissed. _I’m wrong._ Vera was being swallowed up by her thoughts, she was growing frantic. _Why am I acting this way?_

“Tsuru, I don’t think that’s wrong,” She said desperately, gesturing at him, “I think this is wrong.” She pointed between her and Emma, hoping he could understand what she was saying. Then she saw the look on Emma’s face, “Wait, no, I mean.” Vera stopped talking, she looked from Emma to Tsuru and back again. _It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong._ Her mouth moved but no words sounded. _It’s wrong, wrong, wrong!_ Something within Vera was recoiling. She breathed, her face blank, not seeing the people in front of her. She turned towards the exit without another word. 

“Vera, wait!” Emma protested, sounding upset. Tsuru sneered, 

“Answer her questions, Vera, explain it to her, end her confusion.” Vera shot a guilty glance back at him. She just needed a second to collect herself, to stop this panic searing through her, and then she could calmly explain to Tsuru that this was all just her misdirected anger. 

Vera walked out into the small corridor and towards the exit of the hospital. Emma caught up to her, grabbing onto her arm.

“Vera!”

“Leave me be.” Brown Eyes hissed, snatching her arm away from her. Emma’s eyes narrowed to a glare. 

“What is going on with you?” She asked in an angry voice. Vera put her hands in her trouser pockets. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”  
“I don’t need your help.” She spat back. Emma let out a noise of hurt. She followed after Vera in silence for a few moments. They were approaching the exit. Vera pushed open the door and took in a long breath of cold air. It was beginning to snow again. 

“What did you mean by ‘this is wrong’?” Emma asked, gesturing between herself and Vera, like Vera had done earlier. Brown Eyes looked down at her. She shouldn’t say anything, it was in her best interest to stay completely mute, she was in no position to calmly explain to the shorter girl what was going on. 

“Isn’t it?” Vera asked. It may have sounded like a challenge, but Vera genuinely didn’t know. Emma’s eyes widened in shock and then glared at her. Vera had never seen Emma look at her like this, so filled with rage. It felt awful. Emma was about to say something back to her, but she’d also lost her tongue. It was Conner’s voice that spoke next. 

“Vera! Emma!” He called from the hospital doorway. The two turned to look at him in surprise. “It’s Tsuru, the second you left he started collecting his things.” Conner’s face looked concerned, “He wouldn’t listen to me, said he was going and that was that.” Vera didn’t take a second before she acted, running past Conner and down the corridor. She slid over the tiles as she came to an abrupt stop by the arch way before rushing into the room and looking over at Tsuru’s bed. 

The guard’s uniform, and Tsuru, were gone. All that was left was the hospital gown on the bed, in a messy heap. 

A growl escaped from between Vera’s lips and she kicked one of the hospital beds, her growl growing into a frustrated yell. The patient on the bed looked at her fearfully. Vera narrowed her eyes at them, not bothering to say sorry. She left the room to see Emma and Conner hurrying towards her. 

“He’s gone.” She confirmed. _This is my fault._

“We can catch him outside.” Conner rushed, turning towards the exit. Vera and Emma followed closely, but by the time they were out of the hospital Tsuru was no where to be seen. Vera set off down the pavement in a random direction. 

“Where are you going?” Emma shouted after her. 

“I have to find him.” 

“He just needs to cool off, leave him be.” Emma argued. Vera stopped walking, her fists clenched. _She doesn’t understand._ Vera turned and stormed back over to her.  
“He’s not coming back, Emma.” She hissed. Emma blinked in surprise, 

“Why not?” Vera gritted her teeth, sneered and let out a sharp breath. She took a step back, pacing around before facing Emma again. She leant nearer the girl so she could lower her voice.

“Tsuru is transgendered.” She explained in frustration, “He was allocated the gender of female at birth, but he’s really a male.” Emma’s eyes widened. 

“What?” She said, her brows furrowing in confusion. Then her eyebrows lifted and her face shifted, “Oh!” she said, “And the bandages, and Conner’s friend, oh!” She was nodding, “I get it now.” A pause, “Wait, why is he leaving then?” Vera struggled with this part. She went to say something, then had to stop. She tried again, but she couldn’t say the words. 

_Because I made him feel as if he wasn’t welcome._ Vera gave up, she turned to Conner. 

“Can you take us back to the cottage? Tsuru may go there to collect his stuff.” She explained. Conner looked at her and gave a nod. 

“Sure.” He reached into his brown trousers and pulled out his car keys, walking over to the sorry looking yellow thing. Emma looked up at Vera sceptically. Vera raised a hand to silence whatever protests she might have,

“I’ll explain better if we’re back at the cottage.” She said tiredly, not sure it was true. Emma pursed her lips but said nothing. Vera got into the front of the car, Emma sliding into the back. It took the car a few seconds but soon its engine was alive and pulling the car away from the hospital. Conner gripped the steering wheel firmly. He glanced over at Vera. 

“Got a bit flustered back there.” He murmured. Vera was looking out the window, she spared a seconds glance at Conner before looking back out again. “Listen, kiddo, it’s alright.” Vera shifted in her seat. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said under her breath. Conner turned the wheel as they followed the road around a corner, passing more grey buildings. Vera’s mood had never matched the colour palate of the city so well.

“You won’t have been around at this time, you probably weren’t even born yet, but there was a time when Bochardess was becoming more accepting.” That got Brown Eyes attention. 

“What are you talking about?” She asked. Conner shrugged, taking one hand off the wheel and resting it against the window, leaning his head on it. 

“I was just a kid myself, but I remember it. The streets weren’t built up like this.” He said, gesturing at the buildings surrounding them, “Bochardess was just one massive village. Small houses and huts, farms, forests. Kinda like North Bochardess, but less cramped.” 

“I know.” Vera said coldly, “I’m not an idiot, I’m aware of what Bochardess _used_ to be like.”

“Maybe aesthetically, but culturally it was a whole different ballgame.” Conner turned the heat in the car up. It made some sad spluttering noises and Conner let out a sigh, turning it off. He shook his head in annoyance then got back to his story. “When my grandmother was a child Bochardess didn’t exist. It was just a group of small villages. In fact, most of the country was that way. It was very traditional, everyone was religious, _Uurism_ was ingrained in the blood of the people. Anything that wasn’t natural,” Conner glanced meaningfully at Vera and then back at Emma. Brown Eyes ignored the look. Emma hadn’t seemed to notice, she was just silently listening in the back. “Was seen as wrong. 

“But then the rest of the world began to change, and all those small villages and traditional ways became a weight the country couldn’t carry. Everywhere you looked were homeless, unemployed, starving people. It was a bad time because of that, but when the wealthy no longer had a hold, as they had no wealth, all those traditions, all those rules, melted under the Bochardian sun.” 

People felt liberated and free, more open minded approaches took hold. It may not have been the most wealthy country, but for people like my grandma, who at that time was a grown woman with a husband and a baby on the way, it was perfect. Some place where they wouldn’t be judged for the colour of their skin, some place where they could live a normal life. Many people had similar ideas, and the country flooded with all the ‘hard-done-bys’ of other countries. Come seeking acceptance.” Conner’s face turned grim. “You may not have known that Bochardess went through a period of acceptance, but both of us know what comes next.” Vera’s grip on the door handle tightened, she couldn’t imagine it - a Bochardess like the one Conner was describing. 

“Wealthy countries saw a holiday resort, the people who were meant to keep this country safe saw power and millions of _dolch_.” Vera tutted. “I’m guessing all that progress-”

“Down the drain.” Conner hissed. He took a breath, “Sorry, still gets me riled up, even now.” Vera looked him up and down. 

“Me too.” She admitted. “What’s all this about, Conner?” Conner glanced at her, then at the road,

“Sorry, got side tracked. My point is, kid,”

“I’m twenty years old.” 

“What’d ya want me to call you? Adult? Doesn’t have the same ring to it.” Vera huffed but didn’t protest further. “This place is filled with harmful ideas about what is right and what is wrong. You’re only human to have a few of them giving you grief.” 

“Doesn’t make what I said any better.” 

“No,” Conner agreed, “but it means you know how to fix it.” Vera looked back out her window.

“Whatever.” 

 

By the time Conner pulled up by the gate of the cottage it was darkening outside. Vera got out, Emma close behind her. 

“Thanks, Conner.” Emma said quietly. Conner gave a nod and then turned his car around, driving off. Vera entered the code to the cottage and went in. 

“It was you, then.” Emma said simply, coming to walk beside Vera as they approached the cottage. “You didn’t like what Tsuru was, so you insulted him, and now he’s gone.” 

“How did you figure that out?” Vera hissed, slotting the front door key in and opening it. 

“I’m not dumb, I heard what Conner said. I could piece it together.” Her tone was accusatory. “You think he’s wrong, you think this is wrong.” Emma said, gesturing between them, “Frankly, is there anything you don’t think is wrong?” 

“Emma, it’s not like that.” Vera pleaded as she walked into the sitting room, flopping down tiredly on the sofa. Tsuru’s motorbike had still been in the drive, and his bedroom door was undisturbed. The man hadn’t come back here yet. Maybe he never would. Vera tilted her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly. She did not feel ready to explain anything. Emma walked in, her hands on her hips. 

“Then what is it like, Vera. Explain it to me.” She asked. Brown Eyes tensed. 

“I can’t.” Was all she could say. Emma looked at her unsympathetically. 

“Why not?” 

“I can’t.” 

“Why do you have a problem with Tsuru.” Emma asked more harshly. Vera opened her eyes, sitting forward and looking up at Emma as sincerely as she could. 

“I don’t.” 

“That’s not what you said in the hospital.” 

“I was confused.”

“About what, Vera?” Emma tilted her head, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Please, Emma, I can’t.” Vera felt desperate, she was being backed into a corner, and she didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t ready to face this, but Emma was at the end of her tether. Vera could almost feel the air shift as the girl snapped. The snake was impressive to watch, but terrifying to face. She braced herself for what was to come. 

“You make no sense, Vera. One second you’re kind to me, you treat me like no one ever has, like I’m not some silly child. You do these things, Vera, these things I don’t know how to describe. The way you smile joke with me.” Emma took a step closer to Vera. Brown Eyes rose from her seat and took a fearful step back, not meeting the girl’s green eyes. “Sometimes you come closer to me and you put your hand on my face or you hug me or you-” Her voice cracked, there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Vera was frozen, her mouth dry. “It’s good, Vera. It’s better than good when you’re near me. But just as it’s starting to be really good you shove me away, tell me not to touch you, treat me like I’m dirty, like you’ll catch a disease off of me. Do you know how that feels?” Emma poked a finger in Vera’s chest. Brown Eyes opened her mouth to say something, but Emma was right. Vera kept going close to her, like a bug towards a bonfire. She’d fly amongst the flames, daring them to consume her, and when she got too close and got burnt, she’d flutter away again. 

_It’s wrong._ The voice was louder this time, echoing through her head. It repeated over and over again. _It’s wrong._ A dull drone in the back of her mind, slowing growing in volume. “What happened to you, Vera? Why are you like this? Why are you doing this to me?” Emma was beginning to yell now, her face reddening. 

“Emma, I can’t, _can’t_ , go there.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“You don’t have a right to my history, Emma, that’s not how people work.” 

“ ‘Cause you’re such an expert.” Emma hissed. Vera flinched. 

“Please, Emma, you have to leave this, it’s too much for me.”

“Tell me, Vera, just tell me.”

“Aren’t you listening to me? I said no!” Emma ignored her. 

“Just say whatever it is!”

“No!” Brown Eyes felt panic rising in her throat. Memories began crawling up her legs. Hands, fingers, fingernails. Digging into her, pulling at her skin. Bright screens, restraints, trays, grey walls, crying. Her pulse was speeding up. 

“I have a right to know, so _let me know_.” Hands, fingers, fingernails.

“My history is my business.” Vera’s voice was a whimper now. Bright screens, restraints, trays, grey walls, crying. 

“Tell me why!” Vera’s vision was blurring, Emma was in her face, her anger fizzling the air around them. Tears found their way into Vera’s eyes, but stubbornly refused to run down her cheeks. Emma didn’t seem to notice. All Vera could feel was hands on her back, fingers on her throat, fingernails dragging down her arms. Bright screens glaring into her eyes, restraints reddening her wrists. Grey walls. All she could hear was crying. And then another noise. It eclipsed all the others. 

A noise.

Pops. The noise of turning, then a pop. The noise of turning, then a pop. “Why, Vera!”

“Because it’s wrong!” Vera roared as if all her sanity had shattered, the tears broke free. “It’s filthy, it’s dirty, it’s wrong.” She took a step towards a stunned Emma, a rage consuming her. “It’s against nature, it’s against how things were designed. It’s disgusting behaviour. It. is. wrong.” Emma bared her teeth, but Vera wasn’t done. She wasn’t even aware of what she was saying at this point, the voice in her head had taken command. It didn’t feel like Vera anymore, her skin was a puppet for the madness within her. “You make me feel ill, you make me feel sick, because it’s wrong, because it’s filthy, because it’s dirty.” Vera kept repeating the words, taking a step away from Emma now. Her rampage was waining into a crazed ramble. She turned away from Emma, leaning in on her self, her hands grabbing at tufts of her hair as she babbled on. “Filthy, dirty, wrong.” She muttered, “Filthy, dirty, wrong.” It took a minute, maybe longer, but Vera’s outburst died. Her words had ended, but they hung in the air like locusts. 

Vera squeezed her eyes shut as more tears spilled out. She sniffed and wiped them away with shaking hands, keeping her face turned from Emma, every inch of her body felt rotten and hollow. She used her turtle neck’s sleeve to clean her face, all thoughts for cleanliness lost. Vera had lost control of her own mind and body, why bother trying to control anything else?

When her breathing had calmed it hit Vera what she’d just said, as if she’d only just taken back her own body again, her memories informing her of her crime. Her own tongue had betrayed her. 

Vera slowly looked behind her at Emma. Her heart was made of glass at the sight, and then promptly hit with a large rock. It fell apart onto the ground, breaking into tiny pieces, and then into even smaller ones, and then smaller still, until the pieces fell through grates in the ground into dark, sewage waters to be swallowed whole. Emma’s face was still red with anger, but her expression was horrified, her eyes wide, her mouth open. Tears were on her face, too. Brown Eyes turned fully around. “I’m sorry.” She choked out, her throat sore. In that split second Emma’s face hardened. Vera, with a start, realised that all this time Emma had felt like an open door to her. The only person who’d ever given themselves so freely to her, so trusting and innocent. 

For the first time that door was closed. Slammed in her face and locked. 

“Get out.” Emma said, her words heavy like ice, and just as cold. 

“Em…”

“Get out.” Emma pointed towards the hallway, towards the door. Vera was still, then, reluctantly she moved past Emma. She stopped at the entrance to the hallway and looked back. 

“I can’t, I have to stay here… I’m your bodyguard.” It was a lame excuse, but Vera didn’t know what else to stay. Emma sneered up at her,

“Then get as far away from me as possible.” She hissed. Vera looked down at her. _It’s too late._ She realised miserably. _I can’t fix this._ She nodded numbly, then turned and walked upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry if anyone was upset by this chapter, all the homophobia, and transphobia brought up in this chapter are not for shock value, they are a part of the story and will be developed on throughout the character arcs appropriately. Thank you so much for your patience, and if you have any complaints you can let me know by leaving a comment, or messaging my tumblr @jamjarsthebook.


	17. Chapter 16

**_Chapter 16_ **

Vera stumbled into her room. Her misery swirling around in a raging whirlpool within her. She slammed the door behind her, looked around the small space, then fastened her hands onto her bedside table in a fit of rage. With a yell, she ripped it from the floor and flung it across the room and against the wall. The lamp on top went flying, pulling its plug out of the socket, and the bed side table collided with the wall with a crass, clattering to the floor. One of its legs was broken and the front draw had fallen out, cracking down the middle. 

Vera Let out a low groan that grew into a sob and fell to her knees, placing her clenched fists on the floor. She quietened her crying, but continued none the less, a sea of hopelessness engulfing her. As her cries began to subside and she regained her composure, her breath hitching less and her shuddering shoulders relaxing, she looked over at the bedside table. 

Fallen out of the broken draw, only a few inches away from her hand, was a syringe. 

 

Vera’s gaze focussed in on it like a beacon. Everything else in the room was blurred and unimportant. She felt an itch that desperately needed to be scratched, and the only way was through taking sunshine. Snapping forward, her arm seized the object and brought it towards her face. She looked at it, turning it over in her palm and examined the liquid inside. _Sunshine_ wasn’t the strongest drug you could take, but it filled Vera’s body with a life she found so rare and so special. It relieved her of her thoughts and pains. 

Vera put her right hand on her left hand’s wrists, trying to push her own arm away from her. She’d gone the longest she’d ever done without drugs. She’d been doing so well. _I was distracted._ She told herself. Vera knew this was her best opportunity to get clean, to take advantage of the distractions and lack of boredom to deal with the constant pull towards sunshine. But it was right there in her hand, she could feel the cold press of the syringe against her skin. She went back and forth, telling herself that eventually she would give in and take it and so she should spare herself the wait and get it over with, then going back on herself and resolving to leave it be, to be stronger than the pull, to resist the urge. Vera put the syringe down. She was determined not to take it. Then it hit her again what had happened that day. What she’d said to Emma.

The drugs took effect almost immediately. 

Vera was sat leant against the closed door. She reclined her head onto the wood and closed her eyes, letting out a breath before pulling the needle out of her right arm, letting the syringe fall to the floor. One moment she’d been staring at the syringe, the next it was already in her arm. Her pulse began to race and her vision focussed, blurred, then focussed again. Her ears popped and it was as if she’d never heard before that moment. All thoughts were swept away in a tidal wave of sense experience. Every fibre of the carpet below her, and every splinter of the door behind her, she was aware of. Or at least that’s how the drugs made her feel. 

Vera wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but it must have been at least an hour, as her senses were beginning to dull. Thoughts of what was right or wrong didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. All the world was composed of was her rampaging heart beat and beads of sweat on her forehead. It was bliss. The itch was being scratched and it was the greatest relief she’d felt. 

But then she heard a noise, a real noise, and all that bliss was washed away. It was a muffled sound, but unmistakable. A scream, a struggle, before something fell with a loud crash. Vera thought it might have been the glass cabinet, or perhaps the table. Whatever it was it was a sign of something bad. Vera’s heart sunk, she’d been a fool, she was in no state to protect Emma now. 

Brown Eyes desperately clambered to her feet, a wave of dizziness hitting her head as she stood. She leant against the door and shoved it, but it stayed put. When she remembered that door handles were a thing and needed turning she managed to get out into the hallway.

Turning sharply she took the first few steps, then her foot missed the next one and she was tumbling down. Her right side impacted with the hard stairs as she rolled down them. A snap of pain struck through her right arm like the deafening crack of a felled tree. 

The world around her was spinning, even after Vera had impacted with the floor at the bottom of the stairs. She let out a groan, her muscles were screaming in protest and her bones felt hollowed and brittle. Vera didn’t want to move and she wasn’t entirely sure she could, afraid she’d splinter into tiny pieces at the slightest of movements. For a brief moment she wondered how badly she’d damaged herself in the fall, her right arm was on fire with pain, only enhanced by the sunshine she’d taken. _I’m a fool._ She scolded herself, _A weak willed fool._ Vera lay there still; she must have looked dead. The noise of the struggle had ceased, whoever was attempting to kidnap Emma had been surprised at the tall girl collapsing down the stairs like a rag doll and landing in a heap. Emma must have taken her chance, as the quiet muffling sound burst free. 

“Vera, run!” It was Emma. “They won’t hurt me, but they will hurt-” Whatever Emma was going to say next was cut off as the noise was muffled once more. The sounds of struggle re-surfaced. _Get up._ Vera willed herself. Putting her left hand on the floor she pushed against it, trying to get herself on her feet. She went to put her right hand down as well, but shocks of agony seared up and down her arm. Letting out a hiss of pain she collapsed again, this time facing towards the sitting room. 

“She’s alive!” One of the people holding Emma yelled. Everything was dark but the light of the moon was enough for Vera to see that there were six people in total, all dressed in black with masks over their faces. Two of them, the tallest of the bunch, had Emma’s arms held tightly behind her back, one of them was pressing a cloth to Emma’s face. Two more were standing by the back of the room watching the exit, the other two stood in the corridor looking down at Vera in shock. Emma herself looked red in the face. _She’s holding her breath._ Vera realised, _Good girl._ A spur of determination coursed through Brown Eyes and she pushed herself up with her one good arm, getting her feet firmly on the ground. She lunged at the nearest person, presumably, not too tall or strong looking. Vera’s balance was rocking around her and as she crashed into the woman they both fell to the ground. A fresh wave of pain rippled down Vera’s arm and she let out a wail as someone grabbed her and hauled her off of the woman before she’d had any chance to inflict real damage. Emma was being dragged away, her eyes closing, her head lolling to the side. 

“Emma!” It was meant to be a scream but Vera’s voice was weak. A fist collided with her face and Vera felt a sharp crack before falling to the floor again. She tasted blood in her mouth. A sharp, iron taste that flooded her senses. When she looked back up again, Emma and the four other people were gone, leaving only two left. 

“Watch her, I’ll go get the stuff.” The woman said to the man, “This is Vera, right?” She asked. The man gave her a nod,

“That’s what the other girl said, isn’t it?” He affirmed. The woman pursed her lips, getting to her feet and hurrying out of the cottage. The man sat on top of Vera, straddling her waist and pinning her arms down at her side to keep her in place. Her right arm was screaming at this point, sending almost constant jolts of pain to her brain, but there was another type of horror gripping Vera now. 

Vera was looking up at the man, the way his grip on her wrists was tight, and the way he was positioned above her, leering down. This was something Vera had experienced before, very brutally, and something within her went rabid in fear. She lurched upward with a strength she didn’t know she’d had and thrust the man off her. Her right arm yelling for her to stop and lie still, but the sheer fury and panic within her forced her onwards.

Vera hit the man once, then twice, then a third time until he was stumbling backward, bloodied and bruised, as Vera supposed she herself was too. 

Brown Eyes shoved him against the wall and locked her hands around his throat, squeezing tightly. Vera’s head was spinning, the room too, but she was focussed in on the man’s throat as he begged and struggled and pleaded, slowly losing his energy. The fingers on her right hand were going numb, but she kept increasing the power of her grip regardless. 

The woman returned with a large case that she dropped on the floor when she saw what was happening. 

“Get off of him!” She wailed, rushing at Vera, but Vera didn’t budge, her eyes were ablaze with fury. _Emma._ Her brain hissed in rage. _They took Emma._ All her focus was on keeping her grip tight, keeping her muscles working. The woman had stopped trying to pull her arms away from the man now and the man’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head. “Look at this, Vera!” The woman hissed in her ear. Brown Eyes foolishly glanced down at what was in the woman’s hand. 

A small red jar. 

A jam jar.

Vera’s hands instantly let go of the man as if he were boiling hot metal. _How?_ Confusion spluttered in Vera. She recoiled away from the woman who thrust the jam jar into her face. “Recognise this?” She asked, baring her teeth. Vera did recognise it. It wasn't just any jam jar, it was a specific brand, a specific shape, one she recognised from a specific place. The memories that surged around Vera were more powerful than they’d ever been, amplified a thousand times by the drugs still in her system. Hands, fingers, fingernails. They trailed up and down her body mercilessly. She crumpled to the ground, her body finally giving in. By the time her head hit the floor she was unable to move. 

“Quickly, the others are waiting.” The man choked out, recovering quickly. He glared down at Vera from behind his mask. “Brat.” He spat down at her, his saliva hitting her face. Vera felt sickened at the disgusting act, but was soon distracted by a firm kick to her stomach. She let out a gasp and spat blood onto the carpet. 

“Careful.” The woman protested, “If she’s too banged up no one will believe it’s suicide.” The man grunted in agreement and walked away from Vera. Brown Eyes was paralysed in pain, in a drugged stupor, in a state of panic and now in fear. _They’re going to kill me._ She realised with a jolt. Vera forced her muscles to move again, lifting herself agonisingly slowly off the floor. “Let me help you.” The woman said sinisterly, securing an arm under each of Vera’s shoulders and heaving her to her feet. Vera let out a scream of pain as the woman grabbed her right arm and squeezed it. 

“I thought you said don’t damage her?” The man asked sceptically in the dark. The woman laughed, 

“Her arm’s already wrecked, a little more won’t make a difference.” Vera’s scream died as the woman loosened her grip. Vera’s head hung forward weakly, giving up. 

The man opened the large case and pulled out a steel bar. On each end was a sharp contraption that the man, standing on a chair he’d pulled into the centre of the room, smashed into the ceiling. When he let go of the steel bar it hung in place, the spiked contraption on either side securing it into the ceiling. 

“The police are idiots if they think this is suicide.” The man breathed, looking at the ridiculously out of place device. The woman was dragging Vera towards the chair in the middle of the room. 

“We just need to leave enough for our men to spin a story with.” She assured him. 

“Here.” The man handed something to the woman, Vera wasn’t sure what. The darkness of the room was engulfing her, leaving her alone with the pain shooting around her senses, and the memories dragging her into despair. 

“Emma…” She choked out, her voice a pitiful cry. Something was fastened around her neck and tightened. It was heavy and thick. _A rope._ She realised with a start. _A noose._ The woman and the man worked together to haul her up onto the chair. Vera struggled the best she could, thrashing her arms, but in her drugged state, with pain and injuries littering her body, her thrashing was muted and easily manageable. She felt her feet make contact with the chair, and then she was standing on it. The rope was fastened onto the steel beam that had been attached to the ceiling and Vera was certain she’d drop at any second. In darkness, with pain in every inch of her physical and mental being, she would drop and suffocate. Then the dark was illuminated with a bright, artificial light as someone flipped a switch. 

Vera squinted her eyes against the glare, it was almost too much to bare at first, she’d been so used to the darkness she wasn’t sure how to handle the bright. But then the light faded to a more manageable level, and Vera could look clearly around herself. The crash from earlier had indeed been the cabinet, which was lying across the floor surrounded by shattered glass. Vera could feel cuts along her arms and legs, and guessed that was the cause. Vera’s mind finally turned its attention to the doorway where a tall man in impossibly immaculate clothes with slicked back hair stood. His left hand was on the light switch, his right held a gun trained on the man standing at Vera’s side. 

“I’d highly recommend you step away from her.” Gortald’s calm voice echoed throughout the quiet room. The man and woman were stunned, then they pulled their own guns out of their holsters. 

“So much for a clean get away.” The man mumbled, taking a timid step backwards to stand behind Vera. The woman looked angrily at Gortald. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t the man himself. Our _king._ ” She spat the last word sarcastically, clearly she didn’t approve of Gortald. Vera supposed rebellion members and society members weren’t the best of friends. Gortald looked from the man to the woman, it was two guns against one and Gortald had lost the element of surprise. 

“Don’t hesitate.” Vera instructed him, her voice a weak whisper as a plan, albeit a stupid one, formed in her mind. Gortald’s eyes snapped onto her and narrowed, his features severe, making the smallest shake of his head to indicate his concerns. Brown Eyes took a long, deep breath, her ribs feeling bruised, adrenaline rushing through her veins, and then she kicked the chair from underneath her. 

The chair impacted with the man behind her and he stumbled away, the hand holding his gun flailed aimlessly. The woman didn’t turn away from Gortald, but her eyes darted towards the noise, losing their focus for just a second. With two efficient bangs and needle-thread aim, Gortald had shot them both. 

Vera dropped. 

She felt an incredibly strong pressure around her neck, closing tightly over her airway. Soon she found herself unable to breathe, her face red and strained. 

“Hold on.” Gortald’s voice reached her, lacking its usual emotionless quality. 

Vera was beginning to see dots at the edge of her vision when she felt the chair being placed back below her feet. She stood up but the pressure was still there, she still couldn’t breathe. Panic swarmed up through her like a hive of bees, but then Gortald reached up and slid his fingers around the rope, tugging this way and that. He pulled at the rope above Vera’s head, guiding it down and around her neck, loosening the noose. Vera sucked in a breath. 

Gortald was standing in front of her now, on tip toes, reaching up to pull the knot over and above her head. He slid it away and Vera was free. Brown Eyes collapsed forward and onto Gortald, who just managed to brace himself and catch her. Vera took in long, slow breaths. She could see flashing lights and hear a loud ringing and her arm was tingling with pain. She could feel bruises and cuts dotted around her body. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t think. 

Gortald managed to navigate the tall girl over to one of the couches and lowered her as gently as he could, which wasn’t all that gently, onto it. Vera let out a grunt as she impacted with the soft furniture and then lay still, her chest slowly rising and falling. “Sleep it off.” The man muttered quietly, looking around the room, then, “ _Sweet sunlight,_ what a state I found you in.” 

 

 

Brown eyes opened onto a cream coloured ceiling. Morning light was filtering in through the bay window onto the carpet of the sitting room. Vera’s head was pounding with an intense headache, and when she tried to move her muscles refused. Her whole body felt hollow and weak and her mouth held the taste of her own blood. She let out a hiss of pain as she realised how on fire her right arm felt. “How are you feeling?” A voice. Calm, controlled. 

“Gortald…” Vera realised, her words mumbled and weak. She shut her eyes against the pain, her brow furrowing as she took in a deep breath. The room wasn’t spinning around her as it had done before, so she assumed the effects of sunshine had worn off. “Why are you here?”

“Tsuru sent me a notice of resignation. I came to check on you.” His brow furrowed, “I’m glad I did. But all that can be discussed later, now we must attend to your injuries.” Gortald answered curtly. Vera opened her eyes and looked over at the man. He was crouched on the floor with medical supplies organised neatly around him; a med kit was at his side, presumably from the cupboard in the kitchen, unless Gortald had had the foresight to bring one of his own which, all things considered, Vera didn’t find that unlikely. “Still keen on the sunshine, I see.” Gortald said, getting to his feet and neatly stepping over to Vera. He very gently tapped the inside of Vera’s right arm, where a small red bump betrayed the injection site. Vera looked down at her right arm, then her eyes widened. It was swollen and bruised and looked incredibly odd. The small tap from Gortald’s fingers had been enough to surge pain within it. Vera let out a hiss. “Apologies.” Gortald murmured, retracting his hand. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Vera asked, trying to sit up. She flopped back down and Gortald, with a look of reluctance, helped her into a sitting position, being careful to avoid her right arm. 

“It’s either sprained or broken. I’m not sure yet, would you kindly attempt to move it?” He asked, grabbing some bandages from the medical equipment laid out on the floor. The bodies of the two rebellion members were gone. Vera didn’t want to ask Gortald what he’d done with them, but she didn’t have to, he saw where she was looking and made the inference. “It wasn’t an elegant deposit, I don’t have access to the help I would have had a few days ago. It was messier than I’d prefer.” He nodded in the direction of the window, “I just put them outside, the smell was off putting.” He talked about the dead bodies so coldly, without a hint of remorse, but his posture was uncharacteristically tense. 

“Have you ever killed before?” Vera asked him. Gortald narrowed his eyes,

“Try moving your arm.” he repeated his earlier request. Vera let out an annoyed breath and did as she was told, letting out a grunt of pain as she tried to turn her arm this way and that. “Hm.” Gortald took the bandages and fastened them around Vera’s arm in a first layer. He made a second layer of badges, thinner this time, that he wrapped up and around her neck, creating a sling. Vera sat as still as she could, trying not to move the arm. Once the sling was done Vera let her arm relax and hang down against the bandages. “Is that more agreeable?”

“Not particularly.” Vera admitted. Gortald grabbed some wipes of anti-disinfectant and set to work on all the small cuts on her face. Vera ducked her head away, sneering in disgust. “I’ll do that myself, thank you.” She huffed, snatching the wipe off of him. Gortald put his hands up in defence, 

“Just trying to help.” He stood up to his full height, crossing his arms. “I thought you’d be more glad I arrived when I did.” He commented. Vera stilled, gritting her teeth at the memories of the previous night. 

“I was.” She relented, “But now I’m just very sore and very tired.” Vera’s eyes snapped wide as the entirety of last night came back to her. “Emma!” She said, standing up suddenly. The quick movement rushed to her head and she slumped back down, Gortald reached forward and caught her head before it bashed back against the wall. 

“Be careful!” He scolded unsympathetically, letting go of her head. “Give it some time, Vera, take a few minutes to wake up.” He glanced down at his watch, “You should start being able to walk around in fifteen minutes, minimum. Until then I insist you stay precisely where you are.” Vera shut her eyes, guilt washing over her. _I forced Tsuru away, and now I’ve let Emma down._ She held back a sob. _I’m useless._ She felt as if all the purpose her life had momentarily held was gone. She’d failed, what was the point anymore? Her life was just one horrible stage turning to another. She was a fool to think this would be any different, that this would break the cycle, that it would last. Vera knew she’d be back where she belonged soon enough, at the bottom of society. 

Vera’s despair must have been outwardly visible to the man. “No, none of that nonsense, Vera.” Gortald spoke strongly to her, if Vera didn’t know any better she’d say he sounded passionate. “You’re past that stage in your life now. It is time to look on how to fix things, not lament on how they broke.” 

“That’s easy to say.” Vera grumbled stubbornly. 

“I’m being entirely serious here, Vera. Listen to my words and listen closely. You can either sit here and let all you’ve worked so hard for evaporate around you. You can give up on Tsuru and Emma, give up on this new life, and wallow in misery. Waste all the things you’ve had to do to get here on self pity. Or, you can put your mind to work, and figure out a way around this.” He leant down towards her, “Don’t give up, Vera. You deserve a happy ending, so fight for it. You’re so close.” Vera looked up at him sceptically, but in spite of herself she took his words in her mind and found herself giving into them. _Now is not the time to cry over the past._ She told herself, _Now is the time to battle for the future._ She gave a nod. 

“So how do we get Emma back?” She asked him. Gortald gave a shrug.

“You’re her bodyguard, not me.” 

“You’re some secret organisation high-up with connections, you must be able to do something.” Vera retorted. Gortald scoffed, 

“Please, I’m not _some_ high up.” Vera arched an eyebrow, 

“I’m not stupid, I know you’re a part of the society, Gortald.” The man smirked at that.   
“I’m not part of the society, I _am_ the society. I’m not some high up, I’m _the_ high-up.” He answered. Vera’s eyes widened and she examined him in interest, 

“Come again?”

“I’m the leader. The conductor of the Bochardian orchestra.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “Hence why I am usually so busy.” 

“For the leader of a secret and powerful group you travel light, and very alone.” Brown Eyes pointed out. Gortald frowned, turning to look towards the window. He considered the light spilling in. 

“I’m not like my predecessor.” He said at last, lifting his hand into the light. Vera snorted in amusement, 

“I didn’t take you for the arrogant kind.” 

“Not arrogant, no.” He murmured, lowering his hand, “I’m not as clever as my father was. Theodoric Gortald was by far the best intellect this country had ever seen, but he was merciless.” He frowned again, “He wanted me to be the same.” He turned back to Vera, “The world I live in is a game for power. It is a very dangerous match of chess. The citizens, the pawns, are called disposable in the scramble for victory.” He tutted, “Wrong. They are the foundation of civilisation. The cornerstone of culture and progress. The men and women who surround me in my world are concerned with power and how to hold onto it. I am concerned with reform.” Vera was stunned. She looked up at him, her mouth agape. 

“Excuse me?” She breathed. Gortald looked her up and down. He sucked in a breath,

“You heard right, don’t make me repeat it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, cringing at himself, “I didn’t ask to get my mother’s sentimentality, but I did.” He looked back up at Vera fiercely, “I am not weak.” He added, more to himself than to her. 

“For someone who wants reforms you don’t seem to have reformed much.” She snarled, recollections of how she’d been treated rising to the surface of her mind.

“I may be the leader of the society, but if I lose too much approval the power I have will be lost, and the ability to reform will be gone with it. I have to move slowly, and subtly.” He glanced away, “My position is shaky at best. Certain events must transpire before I can make my move, lest I forfeit my throne.” He looked back at Vera, “And, in my defence, I haven’t been holding the reigns for all that long, and the second I grasped them I made moves to set my reforms in motion.” Vera waved him off, not caring anymore.

“Fine, fine, whatever.” 

“My point is I’m not more clever than my predecessor. I’m more human.” He shrugged, “Though I’m still rather smart.” Vera could have sworn that was a joke. 

“Yes, _whatever,_ my point is that if you are not just some high-up in the society, but the leader of it, surely you must have a way of finding where Emma is?” She pleaded. Gortald pursed his lips, looking at her, then let out a sigh and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his phone and took a few short looks over it. His eyes scanned back and forth, he tapped out a few words, then deposited the phone back into his jacket. 

“Nothing.” He said, over-pronouncing the word, he was evidently frustrated at this. 

“You’re the leader of the society, you have eyes everywhere, how can you not know?” 

“ _Used_ to have eyes. The rebellion have slowly been blinding them. If she’s with them I can’t see her.” Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath. 

“Surely there is some favour you can do for me to get her back?” She begged. Gortald shook his head, 

“There isn’t. I’m sorry.” He glanced out the window, “Besides, you shot someone to save my life, and now I’ve shot two people to save yours. I’d say we’re even.” Vera felt rage writhe inside of her. Even though Vera was nearly certain they hadn’t, if they had been wrong about the rebellion, and they did want to hurt Emma, then there was a limited time to find her. Vera prayed that Emma could get herself out of whatever situation she was in, just in case. 

Vera realised with a start that there was so much more she wanted to do with Emma. She wanted to show her where she grew up, by the coast, she wanted her to try the local _ranbanad,_ honey soaked bread with hazelnuts and sugar, and she wanted to go dancing with her in the winter and summer _halay_ festivals dressed in traditional Bochardian _salvver_ garments. 

To hear the cheers as all the villagers dancing in a circle, laughing and drinking in the dusk. She wanted her to see what their country used to be, how it could still be. She wanted her to see the hand woven lanterns strung together by string above their heads on the summer solstice, the way communities came together to help one another, to give a hand in raising each other’s children, the way trust was a central aspect of everyday life. She wanted her to see what their country had been at its heart, before wealthy eyes saw _dolch_ instead of people.

Maybe one day she’d indulge herself and give Emma some cooking lessons, perhaps how to make _jelaple,_ teach her the favourite dishes of the place. Most of all, she wanted to be the one to show her all this, she wanted both of them to escape Bochardess and get to all of this culture together, all of this life and living together. Vera closed her eyes, clenching her fists, her nostrils flaring as she took in a sharp breath. _Think._ She instructed herself. _There has to be a way to find her._ Gortald regarded her silently for a minute or so, then he spoke softly. “What are you thinking?” Vera’s eyes snapped open and she looked up at him. 

“ _Jelaples_.” She breathed. Gortald arched an eyebrow. “ _Jelaples_!” 

“I do not follow.” Gortald said flatly. Vera got to her feet. Her head spun and pain was choking around her, but her eyes were alight. She knew how to find Emma. 

“How quickly can you locate Tsuru?” She asked. Gortald snorted,

“Please.” He fished his phone back out and tapped the screen once, twice, thrice and then looked back up at Vera. “I hope you have a method of transportation?” He asked. Vera allowed herself a smirk, 

“I do, but Tsuru won’t like it.” Her smirk vanished as she glanced down at her arm in the sling. “I’m not going to like it either.” She realised. Gortald flashed his phone screen at her and Vera memorised the address, and the photo of a grey apartment tower. 

“He should be in the basement.” Gortald explained. “I don’t understand what this has to do with _jelaples,_ though?” He asked. Vera waved him off. 

“No time.” Brown Eyes strode urgently past him and into the hall. She grabbed her black puffer jacket and, before pulling it on, ripped the sling around her neck off, leaving only the first layer of bandages wrapped around her arm. The bandages she’d ripped off fell to the floor softly, dancing through the air like seaweed in waves before finding their resting place on the ground. Vera flexed her hand experimentally and searing heat pressed down her arm to her spine. She gritted her teeth. _It’ll do._ She told herself. She pulled the jacket on and shoved the front door open, taking a step out into the morning light. She squinted her eyes against it and looked around the drive way. There was one small, grey car. Gortald appeared behind her, taking purposeful steps towards it. 

“My previous vehicle was destroyed.” He confessed. “This was the best I could procure in the time available.” 

“Tragic.” Vera cut across him, walking past the car. Gortald watched after her. “You’re busy, I know you can’t afford to give me a lift.” She explained, stopping beside the most obnoxious, red motorbike she’d ever seen. A motorbike that she felt a pang of guilt when looking at, and a rush of determination, too. Gortald’s eyes seemed to show a hint of guilt, but then it was gone. 

“I have an appointment with John tomorrow, unfortunately. Regarding my father.” 

“Where?” Vera asked. 

“Opposite direction to you, the Library of Definitive Arts.” He gave a curt nod and with that entered his own car, leaving the premises. He idled the car at the front gate as it opened for him. 

“I’ll be in touch, Vera. Soon, all of this will come to an end.” He said out a broken window, then gave her another nod, before guiding the car away from the cottage. It moved through the forest, into the shade and away from her line of sight. Vera sneered, let out a sharp breath, and straddled the bike. 

Vera grabbed one of the red helmets strapped to the back. She briefly wondered if they even worked, given Tsuru never wore them, but the weight of the thing as she pulled it over her head assured her otherwise. She gingerly lay her right hand on the motorbike’s handle, then her left on the other. _Thank Uurgoe I favour my left._ She thought ruefully as she started the engine. Her bike training was minimal, but enough to get where she needed to. The bike purred into life and for the briefest of moments Vera felt closer to Tsuru than she ever had before. The feeling of power beneath her, the readiness to pounce into speed, it was something you could get drunk off of. Despite the screaming in her arm she smiled. She’d find Tsuru, then Emma, and then they’d all get out of this alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! Let me know how you're finding the story so far :)


	18. Chapter 17

** Chapter 17 **

Bochardess felt so different from the back of a motorbike. The biting winds of the city snapped at her like the jaws of hungry hounds as the bike roared through the streets, trying to drag her from the vehicle, their teeth sliding over her clothing. The few cars on the road stayed out of her way. Vera wasn’t going all that fast, but the bike was loud and Vera was certain Tsuru had tweaked the thing to be overly so. The red paint gleamed with sunlight as it elegantly swerved its way through the city, a fish darting flawlessly in and out of crevices in the rocks, and Vera felt a mixture of fear at falling off, and a rush from the freedom and illusion of flight it offered. West Bochardess melted away, the tall, posh houses moulding into dank, grey apartment blocks with cheap cemented walls. Vera caught a graffitied half sun on the side of a dumpster, the symbol for _Uurgoe,_ and wondered briefly how such a God with love for his creations could allow such a divided city to take form. _Because he doesn’t exist._ She told herself, but her spiteful answer was less sure that it had ever been before. 

She kept driving through South Bochardess, right through the belly of the cold district. Past dimmed lights advertising women, money and drugs. Past groups of lost people huddled around small fires, the noise and speed of her travel drawing more than a few stares. Then, in a sharp snap, the cold district ended. It was like breaching the end of a forest, the trees stopping in a neat line. The pleasure houses and grey buildings ended, and the occasional apartment block, a few rivers, and fields, dear _Uurgoe,_ actual _fields,_ surrounded her now. The light dusting of snow that had plagued the rest of Bochardess seemed to have been eradicated by uninterrupted sunlight. The air shifted from smoke and grit into dirt and grass and Vera felt the tug of memories buzzing around her like insects. She ignored them, using the pain in her arm, focussing in on it, to keep her head in the present. 

This was ‘East Bochardess’. 

East Bochardess was called thus because it was the most eastern section of the city, surprisingly, but it wasn’t really considered Bochardess anymore. The development that had swarmed the rest of the place had left East Bochardess untouched. Perhaps the money couldn’t cover a city quite that big, perhaps they wanted a break from the monotony of grey buildings, but regardless it was there, and it felt nothing like the rest. The only reason it had remained technically part of Bochardess was the train station it boasted, something the rest of the city hadn’t had the pleasure of receiving yet. Vera had never been there, but she’d heard it was small. The tickets were highly expensive, and it was mainly for wealthy foreigners who wanted a break from the city, which was few. Needless to say, the lack of business had left the station far behind the luxurious expectations of the rich, and now it only ran trains once or twice a week. 

Vera steered the bike to the left, onto a bridge cresting over a small river. She saw there, in the distance, near a small convenience store and by a large, barren field, the building Tsuru was in. She slowed the bike hoping Tsuru hadn’t already heard its distinctive purr. Vera was far enough away and reckoned she could approach undetected. Bringing the bike to a crawl, she silently came towards the building. Vera pulled the bike to a stop, taking her helmet off and strapping it to the back, and got off of it. She didn’t know where to leave it where no one would steal it so simply wished on the sun, in the way someone might superstitiously touch wood, that no one would. 

Brown Eyes pushed open the door and the heat hit her first. The building was incredibly stuffy in comparison to the brisk outdoors, and Vera was impressed at whatever machine they had that delivered this kind of heat. Then the smell of alcohol and sweat sourly reminded her that, despite appearances, this was still Bochardess, even if only in some sense. She pulled her puffer jacket off and slung it over her left arm, her feet echoing off the floor as she walked around. The bottom floor was large with no furniture in sight, just the grey cement walls. A set of stairs led upwards to what Vera assumed were the apartments. Another led down to the basement. Vera sucked in a sharp breath and descended. 

The stairs led into darkness and Brown Eyes fought the feeling of being swallowed whole and tried to ignore how the sickly darkness pulled at her like currents, like swift water trapping her. She forced herself onwards, one step at a time, until she came to a door at the base. A small, weak light above it barely shone enough to outline the handle. Vera gently took a hold of it and turned, pushing the silent door open. 

The room was small and dark. One bed was in the middle, the sheets messy and strewn to the side. A wardrobe was in the corner, doors and draws thrust open. Vera couldn’t see a bathroom. What she could see, though, was Tsuru. He was barreling around the room, grabbing clothes from the draws, money from a box under the bed, more money from a box atop the wardrobe, and shoving them into a backpack. He was still wearing an obnoxious red jacket, and Vera was certain he had a spare one in every bolt hole he owned. 

At least his sunglasses were gone. 

His furious work wasn’t stopped by Vera’s presence and it occurred to her that Tsuru hadn’t noticed her yet. Vera’s heart was pounding in nerves, but there was no time to feel nervous, she’d done this to herself, it was her own behaviour that had put them in this mess, and Gortald was right. Now was the time to fix things, not run from them. 

“Tsuru.” She said softly, standing still in the doorway, her body frozen in apprehension. Tsuru froze, leant over his back pack, his breath was laboured and his shoulders tensed. Vera waited and a few moments later Tsuru straightened, still not looking at her. “Tsuru.” She said again, coaxing him to turn. The man seemed scared, angry, and a host of other emotions Vera had instilled in him. _This is my fault._ Her voice snapped at her. Then, another one, more biting, _It’s wrong. Dirty._ Vera didn’t have time for this voice anymore, this was the voice that had caused all of this. She crushed the voice beneath her shoes, grinding it into the dirt of her subconscious, removing it from her thinking. It was easier and quicker than she’d expected it to be, a swift end to a part of herself that had held her for far too long. She felt bad she hadn’t done that sooner. 

Tsuru looked over his shoulder at last, then turned fully around. He looked down his nose at her, glaring. He didn’t waste a second,

“Piss off.” He spat. Vera flinched, his eyes were burning, he must loathe her. 

“Tsuru, I’m sorry.” She said. Something flitted across Tsuru’s expression. Surprise, then mistrust. He turned back to his bag and kept packing. Vera moved away from the door way, towards him, “I’m being serious.” 

“Hi ‘Being Serious’, I’m Leaving.” He explained coldly, his joke didn’t feel friendly in the slightest, it was an odd sound in Vera’s ears, “You can’t stop me.” 

“No, I can’t.” Vera agreed, “Not in my current state.” Tsuru glanced back at her as Vera gestured to her arm in the bandages. For the first time Tsuru seemed to be properly taking her in. Vera guessed that she looked a state. No doubt she had a black eye, cuts all over her face and hands, a split lip, and her right arm in bandages must look pretty bad, too. She was grateful for her turtle neck covering the dark bruises that must encircle her throat. Tsuru’s eyes widened and a different, more powerful fury, filled them. 

“Who did this to you?” His was unable to hide the genuine concern in his voice as his eyes examined her. Then his breath hitched, “Where’s Emma?” He asked, putting two and two together, his gaze snapping up to Vera’s face. Vera remained silent, her eyes darkening. Tsuru swore under his breath, their quarrel and his packing instantly forgotten. “Come on.” He hissed, barging past her and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Vera followed after him more slowly, her legs aching with each step. The lights of the main room, and then the outside, seemed to shine directly on her brain and once again she found herself squinting against the bright. Tsuru looked around and caught sight of his motorbike. He turned back to her, his face harsh. “What did I say the first day I got here?” 

“‘Touch it you die’.” Vera repeated his words. Tsuru pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her. 

“What if you’d had an accident and damaged the bike?” 

“What if I’d damaged _myself_ in an accident?” She retorted. 

“You could be dying and I’d still care more about my bike getting a scratch on its new paint job.” Tsuru flared his nostrils, “Besides, you’re not insured to drive it, Vera. Do you have any idea how expensive this could have ended up being?” Vera arched an eyebrow, 

“Do _you_ have insurance for that bike?” Tsuru stalled.

“That’s not the point, Vera.” He snapped childishly. Vera furrowed her brow at him and remained silent. Tsuru gave in, “We’ll deal with this later.” He looked her up and down, “You look close to death anyway.” he turned and in one easy jump was sitting on the motorcycle. Vera slowly made her way over to it, gently lifting a leg over the vehicle. She had just managed to lift one of the helmets onto her head, barely fastening the strap, when Tsuru hit the accelerator. However well Vera thought she’d been driving the bike before, she’d be wrong. So, _so_ wrong. 

Forgetting the pain of her right arm she fastened both of her upper limbs tightly around Tsuru’s waist, the sheer force of speed threatening to pull her off. Tsuru flinched in pain and Vera moved her arm to avoid his bullet wound. 

The fields weren’t fields anymore, they were blurs. The rivers smudges of blue flashing across her vision. The wind wasn’t wind, it was a brick wall they were crashing through, layer after layer of air shredded like paper as they cut through it. Tsuru revved the engine once, twice, then took a corner at speeds Vera swore were impossible. G-force seized around her and tugged at her arms and legs, hungrily pulling her towards the ground below. And below was the only way to describe it; they weren’t driving, they were flying. The dirt road was far below them, far below their speed and agility. Vera let out a breath and leant back, allowing herself to look past Tsuru at where they were going. The cold district and its cold, unwelcoming buildings were already bearing down on them. 

They entered into the throng of grey cement and neon lights so fast it was like falling through the air and smashing underwater, all of your senses suddenly muted. Brown Eyes didn’t know if this was the speed Tsuru usual rode at or if his concern was driving him faster, either way, her heart was hammering and her breath was being dragged away from her, and it felt amazing. 

Within minutes they were in the forest, and Vera was almost sad when Tsuru brought the bike to a stop by the cottage, if it hadn’t been for the pressing issue of finding Emma. Tsuru practically leapt from the bike, tearing over to the cottage. Vera followed in a daze after him, her head was beginning to buzz again and she briefly wondered if she had a concussion, running through the previous night's events in her head, checking for any moment when she might have hit her head badly. _Falling down the stairs will do it._ She realised dumbly. Vera stumbled her way into the hall and settled at the entrance to the sitting room, leaning weakly against the doorframe. Holding tightly onto Tsuru had sapped all of her energy and brought the pain of her right arm rearing back to full. 

Tsuru had gone straight to his room and returned with his phone in hand. He paused at Vera and glanced into the sitting room. His face fell. The sitting room was as Vera and Gortald had left it. The cabinet on the floor, broken glass scattering the place. Medical supplies spread across the carpet near the sofas, the cream couch with small patches of blood littered on it, presumably from Vera’s cuts whilst she had been sleeping. 

Tsuru took a few silent steps into the room, his feet crunching over glass shards as he deposited his phone into his jacket pocket. In the centre was a chair and attached to the ceiling still was the metal bar the rebellion agents had fastened there. Dangling ominously down from it was a rope, at the end of which was the loosely tied noose. Tsuru whipped back around to look at Vera and stalked over to her, his expression dark. Vera didn’t protest as he examined her. first he grabbed the neck of her black shirt, pulling it down to inspect her neck. Sure enough, her neck had dark purple and brown bruises all around, the surrounding skin a bright, sore pink. Tsuru’s eyes were alight, his teeth bared. His fists were fastened so tightly around the black material of her turtle neck Vera thought he might rip it. “How many of them were there?” 

“Six.” Vera answered, her voice weak. “I wasn’t at my best, either.” Tsuru’s eyes snapped up to her face, taking in her expression, then down to her right arm. He grabbed her upper arm, avoiding the bandages, and pulled the sleeve of her turtle neck up to reveal the red mark where she had injected. He let out a breath. Brown Eyes wasn’t sure what he was going to do, Vera felt he’d already figured out her addiction long before, but using on the job was even worse than drinking on the job, and she didn’t know just how angry Tsuru was at her in that moment.

The man was frozen for a few seconds and then, in complete shock to Vera, he pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry.” He breathed, “I shouldn’t have left.” Brown Eyes felt confusion and surprise wash over her, and then a warmth so strong and happy. She hugged him back with her good arm and heaved a breath of relief. 

“I’m the one who should be sorry.” She murmured, “I took my anger out on you, I forced you away. This isn’t your fault.” She clenched her jaw, “It’s mine.” Tsuru pulled away, his hand gripping her shoulder tightly, his eyes searching her face, 

“Do you think I’m a man?” He asked, his voice was so frail despite his best efforts to look tough. Vera had never been so sure of her answer. 

“I know it.” She said strongly, then explained herself. “I was confused, Tsuru. I’m struggling with some things myself. I have- no, I _had,_ a great deal of hatred for who I was. I was fighting it, but it was hard. Then seeing you, someone who wasn’t the accepted norm, it threw me.” She placed her own left hand on Tsuru’s shoulder, gripping just as tightly, “I had a brother, Tsuru, and you remind me so much of him sometimes.” The truth of her own words struck Vera so strongly, the feeling of camaraderie and care she felt for this man burningly strong. “You are my friend, Tsuru, and seeing you were like me, that you were different, it made that voice inside my head, the one that tells me I’m wrong, it made it scared, because it knew I was on the cusp of defeating it. Of realising just how wrong it was, not me.” She squeezed his shoulder, “It doesn’t excuse what I said, not at all, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make it up to you, but you are, without a doubt in my mind, the greatest and honest to _Uurgoe_ most annoying, _man_ I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.” Though he’d deny it, Tsuru’s eyes were teary. He gave a nod. 

“I ran away from my family because I couldn’t stand the chance of them rejecting me.” He murmured after a few moments as they both let go of each other's shoulders, taking a step back, “I was about to do the same again.” He gave her an approving nod, “I’m glad you stopped me.” He paused, glancing back over the tattered room, letting out a breath. Vera brought her mind back to the issue at hand: finding Emma. 

“Tsuru,” She said, the man drawing his attention back to her, “I know you put a tracking device on Emma. Can you use it to find her?” Tsuru’s face flashed in surprise. 

“W-what?” He asked.

“The tracking device. That you planted on Emma.” Vera clarified. Tsuru held her gaze uncertainly, his mouth open. 

“When did you realise?” He asked after a pause. Vera glanced away in embarrassment, 

“Just this morning.” She admitted. 

“It took you that long?” Tsuru asked, raising his eyebrows. “I thought me finding you in all of Bochardess within a few minutes would have been a dead giveaway, but I guess you are even less observant than I first thought.” Vera cringed. When she’d snuck Emma away from Tsuru to show her around North Bochardess they’d been found almost within ten minutes by him. At the time she hadn’t thought much of it which, she realised, was rather stupid. Bochardess was a mammoth city, there was no way Tsuru could have found them without some form of tracking device. Earlier she’d remembered how Emma had wanted a _jelaple_ whilst they had been in North Bochardess and it had sparked the memory of that day in her mind, allowing her to realise what Tsuru had done. 

“Whatever, Tsuru, just use it. We need to find her.” She snapped. Tsuru gave a nod and pulled his phone back out. Vera guessed that was why he’d headed back to the cottage, to get his phone, the method in which he tracked Emma’s location.

“I didn’t mean to invade her privacy, it’s just John had already put one on her and figured I’d find use for it.” He admitted. Brown Eyes felt a fist of anger clench in her gut at that. John didn’t for Emma’s privacy either, then. 

Tsuru flicked through a few of his phone’s displays, then landed on one with a pink pulsing marker on a map. “That’s her.” Tsuru confirmed, standing by Vera so they could both inspect the screen at the same time. “They’ve taken her out of Bochardess.” He murmured, zooming in on the dot. Emma looked about a few hours travel from the city, at least. As Tsuru zoomed in Vera’s heart sank. _Oh no,_ Vera felt her whole body freeze, _Oh_ Uurgoe _no, not there._ The address was laid out clearly by the road, by the large building Emma’s pink dot was within. “We need to go.” Vera breathed, barley controlling herself, “Right now.” With more speed than her injured body should have been able to muster she darted outside and onto the bike. Tsuru followed, not bothering to shut the cottage door, getting on in front of her. He tossed her his phone. Vera caught it soundly with her left hand.

“Direct me.” He instructed as Vera put on a helmet, putting the man’s phone in her trouser pocket as she did so. Then they were roaring their way out of the forest, out of Bochardess, and towards Emma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving kudos really helps me out! :) hope you're enjoying the story! Head on over to my @jamjarsthebook tumblr for more!


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter may be upsetting as it contains characters with homophobic views and implied non-consensual sex.
> 
> Such views are not supported by myself or this book.

**Chapter 18**

Green eyes opened onto a cream coloured ceiling. It had always been the same. The same patterned coloured ceiling, the same mountain of pillows, the same room. Two years ago, a seventeen-year-old Emma sat up in her bed. The sun was peeking through the blinds, casting lines on the floor. Emma’s eyes trailed over the patterns, examining, curious of them. There wasn’t much else of interest to look at anyway. 

Emma thrust the plush duvet off herself, standing on the soft rug in her room. It was large, it was pretty, sunlight loved it during the day, and moonlight at night. Emma had the whole room memorised. Every last inch, every crevice, every crack in the wood or tear in the wallpaper. It was burned onto the insides of her eyelids. It was all she ever saw.

Emma gently walked down the stairs, each step delicate and quiet. Her father, John, was home. 

Her movements were subdued, guilty, as she poured herself breakfast. She felt bad for waking before her father, but what he didn’t know he couldn’t get upset about. When John awoke, she would stay by his side, listen and agree with his words, and ensure he always had food, television, and someone to tell him how clever he was. Emma loved her father, she just wanted to make him happy. 

One year ago an eighteen-year-old Emma was thudding down the stairs. John was out, as he usually was, and she had the place to herself. Emma jumped around the place, making as much noise as she wanted. She got up, ate, played her violin or the piano or the cello, memorised vocabulary for Japanese or French or Spanish or whatever language she felt like investigating that day, her multitude of textbooks spread out on the floor around her in a jumble of dog-eared pages and crinkled spines. 

Emma was particularly fascinated by the Russian and English alphabet, they were so far removed from her own native one that it seemed more like drawings than writing, and had a spreadsheet of them laid out in front of her as she practised writing them. 

Emma would go outside. She’d go running, see how fast and long she could last for. She’d swim, she’d trampoline. She’d play squash with herself for hours on end. She’d sit.

And sit.

And sit.

Looking out the bay window at the front gates, at the exit to the place she called home. 

One day, when the monotony was too much, Emma found a large box and hauled it out to the front gate. Stepping on top of it she reached towards the summit of the gate and hauled herself outside of the grounds. 

The forest was cold and lovely and different. So, so, different. The cottage grew small in her vision, and Emma’s senses were flooded with birdsong, the crunching of leaves, and the slowly approaching sight of buildings, cars, _other people_. 

But then her father’s car had come barreling down the road. John refused to talk or look at her for a week, and suddenly Emma didn’t want to wake up before him to have time to herself. If she had any more time to herself she felt she would burst. 

When her father finally returned her conversations, Emma felt awful. She’d failed him as a daughter, she’d behaved so ungratefully. He’d given her everything she could ever want, instruments, textbooks, sports facilities, and this was how she repaid him? Despite all of this, John had forgiven her. In fact, his kindness was so great that not only had Emma’s misdeeds been forgotten, but John had also presented her with a gift to let her see how much he cared. He’d given her a golden cross necklace, one she’d wear every day following. The chain had become a part of her body, she didn’t notice its movements anymore. Like her own breath, it moved at one with her, unnoticeable unless she focussed on it. 

Emma swore she’d never disobey him again, she’d be a better daughter. Even when he had too much to drink and yelled at her, she’d remain calm and pleasant, the perfect child, always. She’d never forget his kindness and her own foolish nature.

Except when he wasn’t there, and the leash pulled taut around her neck was gone. Then she did as she pleased once more. She ran, she swam, she learnt. She sat, and watched, and waited, and bored. The urge to try to escape, to leave the cottage, was always there, always pressing into her. She feared that one day she’d give in to it. What an awful daughter she must be. 

A month ago a nineteen-year-old Emma had awoken. She’d spent the morning playing on her violin as the warm sunlight soothed over her skin. She danced, eyes closed, as the music took her. It was the closest she got to escaping the boredom of her life. 

Emma was deep in the notes when a cough brought her startling out of the repetitive tune. The song ended with a screech as she jumped in shock, looking to the doorway of her room. A girl. 

Another _girl._

John had told her she’d be getting a bodyguard, but she’d convinced herself it was a dream.

The sun had worked its way onto the girl’s face and shoulders, and Emma found her breath stolen from her by the striking blonde hair cut short and spiky and the brown eyes cutting into her. This was a real human being, here, in her home, with her. Excitement and joy flooded through her, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. The first real smile she could remember having in thirteen years. 

~*~

 

Green eyes opened onto a grey ceiling. Emma was in a chair. It was a comfortable chair. She was a small girl and fit nicely into it, her legs pulled up to her chest. Her head had been lolling to the side as she slept. Emma wondered where she was. The events of the night before slowly came back to Emma. The men and women who’d appeared out of nowhere, masks on their faces, a white cloth in one of their hands. Emma had gotten up, shouting for Vera. She’d darted towards the hallway as fast as she could, but someone had grabbed her. The lights went out and there was a scuffle, something large fell over. Hands grabbed hold of her wrists and held her still and then the white cloth was placed over her mouth. It stank the same as it had the first time the rebellion had tried to kidnap her. She’d held her breath and then, facing the hallway, she’d seen Vera tumble down the stairs. The girl looked dazed, out of her mind, as she thumped from one step, flew over four, and then landed on one far below. Finally, with a sickening thud, she came to a sharp stop on the floor. Her body had been still and for a second Emma was sure she’d died in the fall and a feeling of dread seized her far more strongly than the men and women around. In the surprise, their grip on the cloth had loosened, and Emma was given a chance to yell a warning to Vera. Vera moved. Vera was alive. Then the cloth was back, and then the darkness became even darker, and then there was nothing. 

Emma looked around the room she was now in. She was in an office of some sort, with tall grey walls lined with shelves. All of them were filled with folders and filing systems, names and numbers scattered on each. A desk was in front of her, dark oak with gold decorations. It had paper and pens and ornate paperweights on top, and a massive box that made whirring noises. Emma wondered if that was a computer. 

A woman sat on the other side of the desk, facing her. She looked old, with wrinkles clawing at her mouth, forehead and eyes. Her white hair was pulled back tightly in a bun, so tightly Emma wondered how the hair remained attached to the woman’s scalp. She wore a plain, formless grey dress with a white collar, and her hands were neatly folded in her lap. Vera, Tsuru and herself had reckoned the rebellion didn’t want to hurt her, only reunite her with her Uncle. Still, Emma couldn’t help the foreboding fear within her.

“Where am I?” Emma asked, her voice sounding far smaller than she’d hoped. She knew she needed to be strong, but being kidnapped and put into an unfamiliar surrounding wasn’t relaxing. The woman smiled, 

“Don’t fret, child, all of that can come later.” Her voice was welcoming and gentle as if dealing with a startled doe. “First, I would like us to get to know each other.” The women outstretched an old, pale hand. “My name is Jill Ghojjel, I run this establishment.” Emma looked down at her hand and slowly, as if she was underwater, reached out and shook it. Emma had reservations about revealing her name, it had caused trouble in the past, but then she’d already been captured, so what was the point?

“I’m Emma Chavez.” She said, retracting her hand. The woman nodded kindly, 

“Good. I already knew your name, but you must be scared, so I supposed an introduction might settle you.” She explained. Emma silently agreed, she already felt more assured. Perhaps the rebellion intended her no harm after all. Perhaps they’d been correct. Emma hoped so. “Now, location. We are not in Bochardess anymore, child, we are a few hours south, in fact.” She stood and moved towards the only window in the room. It was small and with white curtains drawn over it. Jill peeled back one of the curtains enough for Emma to catch a glimpse of lush green fields with patches of snow and frost. Then the curtain was pulled shut again. “We’re in a small village called ‘Majjannen.’ Are you familiar with it?” She asked. Emma shook her head. A flash of interest crossed Jill’s face, “I see. No one has ever spoken to you about this village, child?” Emma shook her head again. Jill gave a nod, “Of course, why would they.” Her words forcibly casual. Emma averted her eyes. 

Jill clapped her hands together abruptly, “Where are my manners, would you like a drink, girl?” She asked. Emma startled at the clap, then gave a timid nod. Jill opened a draw in her desk and removed a clear bottle of water. She handed it to Emma who thanked her and drank, her throat dry from thirst. She briefly considered that it could be poisoned, but if these people wanted her dead she supposed she already would be. 

The water tasted good. Cold and clean. Emma drank the lot and let out a breath of satisfaction. She put the water bottle on the table. 

“Thank you.” She smiled at the women. It felt forced, like when she was with her father. The woman gave a curt nod,

“We’re keeping you here until your father can arrive.” She explained. Emma froze. “He’s rather busy, and would prefer you to wait for him away from Bochardess.” Emma’s heart sped up. 

“My father?” She was confused, “Why would John kidnap me?” Jill let out a sharp, bitter laugh, sitting down in her chair. 

“Oh, child, you haven’t been kidnapped.” Jill’s face shifted, “Not this time, anyway.” Emma stilled, the words processing in her mind. She didn’t understand what was going on, or what this woman was saying, so she ignored the comment. She could only recall being kidnapped once, this time. Perhaps the woman was referring to the attempted kidnapping earlier that week? 

Jill suddenly took interest in Emma’s neck. She leant forward, over the desk, towards Emma. Emma leant backwards. Jill squinted her old eyes and smiled, “If I am not mistaken, that is a crucifix.” The woman said, reaching one finger forward and tapping the golden cross hung around Emma’s neck. Emma gave a muted nod.

“Yes.” Was all she could say. 

“Hmm.” Jill leant back, Emma let out a breath. “Child, I am an _Uurist_ , have been since I was born. But,” She leant forward again, though this time she spared Emma and remained outside of her personal bubble, “I must admit I’m a big fan of some views Christianity holds. It’s almost a shame Christians lost the battle for this country.” She paused, catching herself, “Almost.” She reinforced, “ _Uurgoe_ is the true God.” Emma saw an opportunity in the woman’s words. 

“I’ve been Christian since I was a young girl.” She confessed, “It gives my life more meaning than I can describe.” Jill waved her hand dismissively, 

“You are not with a non-believer,” She said simply, “You don’t need to school me on the glories of faith.” She put her hands in her lap and tilted her small head, “Say, are you of the view that homosexuality, and other sexual deviations, are a sin?” Emma’s breath hitched in her throat, she certainly hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a turn. Jill continued, she appeared to have a direction for their conversation in mind. “It’s a rather forward question, but you are safe here, Emma, you can speak how you truly feel about the filth of this good country.” Emma narrowed her eyes, thinking carefully over her words. 

“I believe it is a shame.” She lied. Jill’s eyes lit up, 

“Don’t hold back, child.” She coaxed her. Emma hated her own tongue, but the words seemed to be the best chance of escape from this place. She pushed her advantage.

“It’s a sin.” Jill smiled a wide, toothy grin. 

“Finally, a youth with their wits about them. You’re right, of course. It’s filthy and dirty and wrong. It’s against how _Uurgoe_ designed the world. Any sane human can see that it is an illness, a sickness.” She rose from her chair in a fever of righteousness, “Come, child, let me show you around this place. It will bring you relief.” She gestured for Emma to stand so she did, shakily. Jill paused, reaching into a file on a shelf. She flashed it so quickly in front of Emma that she didn’t get a chance to read the name. “I’ll let you read this at the end.” Emma gave a nod, unable to articulate any response. Jill opened the oak office door and led her out of the office. Emma had been trying to escape, but she had a sneaking suspicion she’d only stepped into a trap. 

 

~*~

 

Emma had clambered through the window after Vera. The Library of Definitive Arts was more beautiful than anything she had ever imagined in her life. her eyes were alive with something different, something new. She couldn’t stop looking, learning, memorising. Every new brick, chair, and book was a gift, was a relief, it was a key releasing one more chain from her arms and legs. 

Then she was in the middle of the place, standing looking at two dead bodies. It certainly soured the otherwise beautiful picture. 

Vera was talking, asking her something, but when Emma turned to face Vera her answer died in her throat. The girl’s harsh features were softened in the light, her sharp jawline smoothed, her biting brown eyes gentle. Everything about her looked inviting. Vera was beautiful. 

Emma didn’t know what to do with the feeling in her chest and it took her a moment to realise what it was. 

Noting a blush creeping up the back of Vera’s neck, Emma forced herself to speak and stop staring. They talked for a bit, and then Emma found herself making a speech about murder and right and wrong. It was odd, but not in a bad way, something light was fluttering within Emma, pulling her toward Vera. Emma couldn’t make sense of it it was so unfamiliar.

It was like when she’d gone to the supermarket and had seen a jam jar on the shelf. She’d remembered that Vera had been looking for one and in a heat of happiness and excitement she’d plucked it from its position, resolving to buy it for her. Such an impulse was entirely foreign to Emma, and yet so welcome. 

Emma wasn’t sure if the other girl noticed, but she was taking small steps towards her. She finished her speech and then Vera moved quickly. So quickly, so powerfully, and yet so gently. The taller girl was so close to her, her breath on her lips, soft and warm. Her mouth was right there. Emma leant towards her and Vera’s hand went to her cheek, her thumb softly moving over her skin. It sent shivers through Emma. Her skin felt alive, buzzing, she couldn’t stop looking at Vera’s face, taking in every detail. She felt amazing. Vera felt amazing. 

Vera lurched backwards as if Emma was disgusting. As if Emma revolted her. She told her to stay away, not to touch her. The feeling that Vera didn’t want her hurt more than John’s hands ever could. It knocked the breath right out of her. Emma wondered if this was what it felt like to be rejected. 

 

~*~

 

Jill was a few steps ahead, waiting patiently as Emma timidly poked her way out of the office and into the hallway. The grey cement walls continued, with bright posters about control and happiness and obedience plastered around the place. Some looked brand new, others faded and torn. Emma walked over to Jill, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The place felt intimidating. “Follow me.” Jill said briskly, setting a fast pace. The hallway continued in front of them seemingly endlessly, with other hallways leading away to their left. They passed one, then two, then three hallways before entering the third. Odd scraping noises echoed throughout the building making Emma clench her jew uncomfortably. The noise got under her skin but she didn’t know why. 

Jill walked away from Emma as the girl looked from right to left. On either side of the corridor were doorways. Metal, tall doorways, like prison doors, with small barred windows looking into the cells. Emma craned her neck to glance inside of one and saw a small girl, hunched over, no more than fifteen years old. She had something in her hand but they moved by too fast for Emma to see what. “This is where we keep our patients.” Jill explained. Emma’s head snapped forward to look at her. 

“Patients?” She repeated. Jill stopped, turning to look back at Emma. She pursed her lips and gave a brisk nod, 

“Indeed. Sadly, there was a small revolution a few years back. It sparked all kinds of poor behaviour. Addiction, defiance,” Jill crinkled her nose in distaste, “Homosexuality. The list goes on. Children disobeying their parents, misbehaving, becoming a nuisance to society.” Jill froze, “Sorry, not society, to our country.” She smirked, “We don’t like that word here. ‘Society’.” Jill spat it out as if it tasted foul. Emma gave a small nod, glancing back at the cells. “Don’t pity them, child, they brought this upon themselves.” She assured her, laying a hand on her shoulder. Emma shifted, pulling her shoulder back. Anger bubbled in her stomach. Jill, in every aspect Emma knew off, felt like a kindly mother, guiding her around a new house. Yet the words spewing from the woman’s mouth jarred entirely with the image, and the surrounding prison-like rooms only worsened the foreboding feeling within Emma. 

Jill glance her up and down as if sensing her discomfort. “We treat them well if they do as we say. Any mistreatment is their doing.” Emma looked up at Jill. Her words echoed her own father’s and it struck her so suddenly what tactics both this woman and her own father used in common. Emma blinked, nodded, and pursed her lips. 

“Yes, they deserve it.” She said, repeating her father’s mantra, “If they want to misbehave then they are forcing your hand. It’s their own fault.” Jill smiled, satisfied. 

“Don’t fret, though, we don’t let the defiers and liars get off easy. We run a tight ship here. Wake at precisely seven o’clock, go to bed at exactly ten, and so on. Everything is on an orderly schedule. Anyone who breaks that schedule, or our rules, well.” She gestured her head towards the end of the hallway, “Let me show you just what we do to our more unsavoury guests.” She sped onward, marching fast. Emma startled and hurried after her, not stopping to look into each cell. The odd noises continued in the background. 

They reached a large oak door bolted shut. Jill glanced down at Emma. “You’ll need to remain perfectly quiet or you’ll interrupt the treatment.” Jill slid the bolt slowly, “Some guests are slow to dispel their filthy urges so we swap to a more rigorous regimen.” Jill pushed the door open a crack, enough for Emma and the woman to see inside. It was a darkened room, except for a large screen at one end. Jill gestured at the screen, whispering, “I know it seems counter-intuitive to show children giving into homosexual tendencies such unsavoury homosexual content,” She said, referring to what was showing on the screen.

Emma’s stomach sank in dread. She glanced over the six chairs facing the screen, drips standing over each child and teenager, putting something into their poor veins. “But if we combine such images with an artificial, but wholly appropriate, reaction of great discomfort we can slowly but surely disentangle the confused feelings of our patients, replacing them with normal ones.” Jill beamed proudly down at Emma, who swallowed, her throat dry again, and nodded. 

Jill shut the door and gestured in front of her, they had reached the end of the corridor, and all the previous corridors they had seen connected to another corridor parallel to the first. It was as if the whole building was laid out like blocks of apartments, only with prison cells instead. Square, efficient but ultimately heartless. 

Emma walked ahead of Jill, down this new corridor. The posters on the walls seemed far darker now. “Of course, we have the usual therapy and conversion one to one sessions, but nothing works quite like classical conditioning.” Jill continued excitedly, she was either ignoring or hadn’t noticed the constant background noise of scraping, “But, do not fret, even if classical conditioning doesn’t work we have one more procedure at our dispense.” Jill winked down at Emma, the friendly motherly facade holding true, “And, it also acts as an extra form of income and influence, three birds, one stone.” The wall on their left turned into a large window looking into a waiting room. A handful of men and women in lavish clothes sat patiently, chatting idly to each other, or reading magazines laid out neatly on tables. A receptionist typed busily away at a computer, sorting availability of patients. 

“Parents?” Emma guessed. Jill shook her head, 

“Goodness, no, most parents want nothing to do with the offspring they send here.” Jill smirked, “We only keep patients for a maximum of two years, sometimes longer when we see fit, then set them free. We send their parents a report on their progress. If they made a successful recovery the parents come and get them. If they didn’t…” Jill shrugged, “Some parents come anyway, some never show.” Emma glanced into the waiting room, her stomach had been clenched with dread ever since this tour had begun, now it felt as if vines were squeezing her insides, each individual organ shrinking down in disgust. It was difficult to breathe. 

“So who are they?” Emma asked. She didn’t need to. She’d already figured it out. Jill said this got them money, so these rich folks were paying for something. Jill said it got them influence, so they were offering something that was a powerful bribe, something you couldn’t usually get. The receptionist was checking the availability of patients so clearly the patients were involved in whatever this place was offering. Whatever rare, hard to get, experience these rich people were paying for. Emma didn’t want to believe this place was selling the bodies of its patients like a commodity. Jill glanced through the glass. 

“You could call them customers.” Jill said, leaving it at that. Emma swayed on her feet, the scraping noise overcoming her, her eyes locked on the grey, tiled floor. She thought she might be sick. 

 

~*~

 

“You think I have more family?” Emma asked quietly. Her back to Vera as she looked across the room. Her eyes weren’t focussed on anything, nor was her mind. Emma thought it was just her and John. That was it. Her mother died when she was young, and there was no one else. She felt stupid, of _course_ there was someone else, families can be large. Hope fluttered in her chest, perhaps this person would be different from John. Perhaps they would love her. 

“It’s possible.” Vera murmured softly, her voice low and comforting. Emma found that voice the steadiest thing in the rushing current of confusion. How come she’d never heard of this relative before? Did John know? Had he lied to her? It occurred to Emma that he could have been, that there was this other person who could have been her friend, given her something to look forward to in thirteen years of nothing, and that John deliberately kept them from her. Hurt joined confusion, and she found her shoulders shaking in anger and sadness, and a hint of relief. She wasn’t as alone as she’d thought. 

“Let’s give her some time alone.” Tsuru suggested. Everything in Emma screamed for them to stay, to comfort her. She didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts, she wanted someone to hold her, to hug her, to tell her everything was okay. Fear joined her hurt, she didn’t want them to leave. 

Vera’s voice cut through Emma’s misery, strong and sharp on her behalf. 

“She’s had her whole life for that.” Vera’s hands fastened over her shoulders, turning her around to face the taller girl. Emma looked past her at first, so shocked at the contact, at the care in this girl who sometimes seemed so cold. Vera bent her head down to Emma’s level, looking her dead in the eyes. “Emma, we’ll find them and we’ll sort this out, whether they have hostile or friendly intentions.” She said. “Okay?” Emma couldn’t help staring back at those brown eyes. Vera seemed to genuinely care about her, to let her have her own opinions. She was allowed to speak up, to disagree, to do her own things. Vera gave her such freedom. She was a calming presence, if Emma was loud or excited the most Vera would do is grunt or even, on nice days, smile. Ever a steady girl. 

Emma nodded, not understanding how quickly her loneliness could have dissolved. She had a relative now, but she realised with a start that she didn’t need one if Vera was there. 

“Okay.”

When that steadiness, that calm presence, was being swept away, Emma knew she had to do something. She was standing in the half-circle shaped room on North Bochardess, staring into a moat of churning water. The sound of waves roaring filled Emma’s panicked head as she looked down into the rushing currents. The light flitting up through the waves highlighted the lean female, struggling against the water. 

Tsuru had acted quickly, he hadn’t had much choice and had shoved Vera into the thick churning mass. Emma had watched, mouth dry, as the tall girl, usually so steady and calm, fell with fear wide in her eyes. Emma took only a second to fix her gaze onto where the girl was before she dived straight after her. 

Emma took a breath and then her senses were silenced by the water, the cold biting into her skin. It was such a different world from above, but a part of her loved it. She was so used to the water, it was like returning home. She opened her eyes but Vera was gone from the light, sucked into the dark churning waters. Loud bangs sounded above her head and she started swimming. Thirteen years with so little to do and Emma had spent almost a third of it swimming or running. Now was the payoff. 

She kicked with her legs, pulling as hard as her arms could as she propelled herself through the water, ignoring the appearance of the bright, churning waves. All she could focus on was Vera, on her safety. Vera had protected her; now she had to return the favour. 

The current was strong, but Emma was stronger, and within a few seconds she was so close, but she feared it wasn’t fast enough. The light had faded, and Emma could just about make out the silhouette of the taller girl and she dived down. 

Vera was so still. Fear stabbed into Emma, colder than the water. She couldn’t lose Vera, she just couldn’t. Everything had been so empty, so pointless, so repetitive. She couldn’t return to that. But Emma knew that wasn’t it, no matter what happened, no matter what different directions Tsuru, Vera and Emma went she knew her life would never return to that boredom. It was something more, something about Vera clicked with her. 

Vera understood, she was understanding of her, she listened to her, she didn’t try to control her like John or even Tsuru occasionally did. She saw her as her own person, her own independent being. She couldn’t let someone like that, someone who mattered so much to her, who’d done so much for her, simply fade away here in this cold. Emma had to get there before it was too late. She had to. 

Reaching out she fastened a tight grip around Vera’s waist, and too her relief the contact seemed to shock through the tall girl, bringing her back from death. Emma’s grip was so tight, she wouldn’t let go, nothing was more precious to her than Vera, she had to get her up. Emma kicked with all the strength she knew she had and more. Her muscles working tirelessly as the surface approached. Vera grabbed a hold of Emma, and Emma wanted nothing more than to reassure the girl that everything would be okay, but there would be time for that once both of them had taken a nice, long breath of air. 

Finally, they broke the surface, and Emma took in a desperate breath, Vera doing much the same. Triumph and relief soared inside of Emma at the knowledge that she’d done it, that Vera was safe. She’d never felt so joyful before, so happy. 

“It’s okay! Hey, it’s okay, I got you, I got to you!” Emma tried to comfort Vera, the poor girl was shaking, Emma had never seen her so frightened.

“Emma…” Vera choked out, tears spilling from her eyes as a few more sobs wracked her body. Emma felt her heart tug at her name being spoken by the girl. Her voice, low, shaking, but unquestionably Vera, was all it took to reignite her energy. She would swim them to safety, even if it took hours, or days, she would keep going as long as needed. For Vera, for them both.

 

~*~ 

 

Jill led them silently back towards her office, down the long, grey corridors. Emma followed, mute. The only noise was their footsteps and the scraping noise that seemed to persist throughout the place. Emma’s eyes darted left and right, she needed to get out of here. She noted a few open windows, what she thought was a front door, and was beginning to form a plan. She would ask Jill to explain one of the posters to her, then in the few seconds surprise she’d have she’d bolt for the front door, then run as far away as she could from this wretched place. Emma didn’t have her running shoes on, but it didn’t matter, she trusted her ability to outspend any guards the place might have. 

But before that she had to know, she had to understand, just what that noise was and why it was so familiar. She needed to know why it got under her skin like that, putting her hairs on end. Emma stopped walking, twiddling her thumbs. Jill came to a stop and looked back at her, 

“What is wrong, child?” She asked. Emma shrugged, looking at one of the cell doors to her right. 

“It’s just…” Emma shifted on her feet and looked up at the woman. “What is that noise?” 

Jill’s smile shifted instantly as if what she’d been waiting for had finally happened as if she’d just watched the startled doe spring a trap on itself.

 

~*~

 

“You make no sense, Vera.” Emma accuses the taller girl, anger and confusion fuelling her words. She was tired of Vera’s mismatched behaviour, she wanted answers, she deserved answered, she had a right to know. Emma poked a finger in Vera’s chest as she argued with her. It felt as if Vera had been toying with her, and even though Emma knew that wasn’t true, knew that something must have made Vera so confused, she couldn’t help lashing out against it. At the very least Emma wanted an explanation, a reason for the behaviour. 

Brown Eyes opened her mouth to say something, but didn’t. Emma’s anger grew in the silence. She pushed further. “What happened to you, Vera? Why are you like this? why are you doing this to me!” Emma was beginning to yell now, her face reddening. She didn’t care if she was being unfair or cruel, she’d been confused about Vera’s behaviour for so long, it had all been bottled up, and now it was rushing free. 

“Emma, I can’t, _can’t_ go there.” Emma narrowed her eyes. After the way Vera had acted she was owed the answer. 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

“You don’t have a right to my history, Emma, that’s not how people work.”

“ ‘Cause you’re such an expert.” Emma hissed, thinking what a hypocritical thing it was to say. Vera flinched. 

“Please, Emma, you have to leave this, it’s too much for me.”

“Tell me, Vera, just tell me.”

“Aren’t you listening to me? I said no!” Emma didn’t care whether Vera wanted to tell her or not, she would, she’d make her. 

“Just say whatever it is!”

“No!” Emma’s vision was red and it missed the twitching in Vera’s posture, the dazed look in her eyes, the shivering, the shaking, the taller girl folding in on herself as if in pain. She was pushing Vera too far, but she was blind to it. 

“I have a right to know, so let me know.” 

“My history is my business.” Vera’s voice was a whimper now. Emma kept going, merciless. 

“Tell me why!” Emma was in Vera’s face. Tears found their way into Vera’s eyes. Emma didn’t notice, or she didn’t care, at this point, she didn’t know. All her time alone, all that time bored, just to be toyed with, let in then rejected. Her voice was sharp and loud. “Why, Vera!”

“Because it’s wrong!” Vera roared. Finally, Emma noticed the tears. “It’s filthy, it’s dirty, it’s wrong.” She took a step towards a stunned Emma, ranting and raving like a crazy person. Each word more wood landing on Emma’s angry fire and it spluttered larger, growing and burning within her gut. Vera’s rambling quietened and died on her tongue and Emma was left with the fresh wounds of the taller girl’s statements. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew those words were caused by her insistent pushing, but she was too angry to admit it to herself. “I’m sorry.” Vera choked out. Emma had never looked at Vera with more hate then in that moment and it felt awful. Emma was used to having walls separating her from other people, but now it was her own construction that was blocking someone it felt even worse; she was alone again, but this time, it was her own doing. Vera wasn’t welcome anymore, and it left her feeling empty.

“Get out.” Emma said. It took her a second to wonder whether it really had been her right to know Vera’s history, to push her so hard to find out what she wanted, but it was too late.

 

~*~

 

Jill’s smile wasn’t friendly, Emma knew this much now. Her words had been laced with honey, sticky like a fly trap. Emma felt a shiver crawl up her back at the harsh glare of the woman’s gaze. She thought she’d been tricking the woman into revealing information, biding her time to create an escape plan, but evidently, Jill had only been messing with her. 

“The girls and boys here aren’t allowed anything tactile to play with or any activities to keep them busy. Such luxuries are for good children. These children must spend their time thinking about their actions, and on how to improve themselves.” Jill gestured at one of the cells, “But these children, these teenagers, they are disobedient, as I’ve already established. Quite against our wishes, they latch onto the only tactile thing they can access. The only thing with moving parts that could offer any entertainment.” Jill shrugged, clasping her hands together, “It started a long time ago. One child did it, then suddenly everyone else did it too.” She hissed, “Sheep as well as fiends.” Emma’s throat felt as if it was closing in on itself, but she pushed on. She needed to know, she had to ask. 

“What is it they’re playing with?” Jill’s smile deepened. A sickly, self-indulgent grin. Her old eyes fixed on her, sucking every inch of her emotions in like a meat grinder. She leant in close, her voice cold and quiet. 

“Jam jars.” 

Those two words cut everything Emma thought about her right to know apart. Her mouth hung open in disgust and she took a few faltering steps backwards, away from Jill. She felt as if the corridor was stretching out in front of her and narrowing in on her all at once. Jam jars. _Jam jars._ Of course. “They play with them, and then it becomes a habit, conditioned into their behaviour. Muscle memory, if you will.” That scraping noise wasn’t scraping at all, it was screwing, then a pop, then screwing, then a pop. Lids being turned, removed, then replaced. Emma placed her hand on the cross hung around her neck, thinking of Vera, thinking of the jar she herself had bought for her. 

She was sure this time she would be sick. 

Jill straightened to her full height, looking immensely pleased with herself. “She still does it, doesn’t she?” She asked. Emma couldn’t stand anymore, crumpling to her knees, putting her hands over her face and taking in gasps of air. She’d been yelling at Vera to tell her, screaming that it was her right, but she didn't want _this,_ she didn't want to know _this,_ she didn’t want it to be true. This was none of her business, but here she was, learning all of it without even realising until it was too late. 

No wonder Vera had cracked. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to talk of this, to speak of why she was the way she was. Emma was certain she was to be ill, clutching her stomach with one hand as guilt and misery and shock rippled through her all at once. 

Jill pulled the file she’d grabbed from earlier from under her arm, “This is her file. Her treatments, everything we did to her, all in black and white.” She shook the file, holding it out to Emma. “Take a look, child. It explains so much.” Emma turned her green eyes on Jill slowly, her body shaking. She got to her feet carefully and took hold of the file, looking down at it. She clenched her fists on the paper, gritting her teeth. 

This was precisely what she’d been asking Vera for, an unlimited insight into her background and history. All the answers simple and plain. But now that she had it, here in her hands, she felt revolted that she’d ever even considered asking for it. This was Vera’s history, not hers. This was Vera’s secret to share, not Emma’s to take. 

Emma fastened her grip on the pages tightly and ripped once, twice, a third time, and then crunched the pieces in her hands before letting them fall to the floor. She turned her furious green gaze onto Jill. 

“You disgust me.” She hissed, baring her teeth. Jill snorted in amusement and Emma couldn’t stop herself, thoughts of escape evaporating in her rage with a sizzling hiss. She lunged forward, slamming Jill against one of the walls. One of the teenagers in a cell nearby called joyfully, egging her on. A few others cried in agreement. Most remained silent, watching fearfully. 

Emma hit Jill. Then again. And again. Jill protested feebly, but she couldn’t stop her. Emma had never felt such a fury and couldn’t stop her fists slamming against the old woman’s features. Her knuckles hurt, and her arm ached, but she refused to stop. 

A security guard ran down the hallway towards them, but Emma didn’t hesitate, she didn’t try to run, she didn’t care. “How dare you!” She screamed as the security guard hauled her off of Jill, Emma struggling in his arms, “You’re wrong!” She hissed. “Love can never be filthy, its's love! It's what makes us human!!” Jill’s expression was severe, one hand dabbing her bloodied face. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, child.” She said, opening an empty cell with a stiff grip. The guard forced her through the door, shoving her onto the floor. “Your father won’t be pleased.” Emma felt a jolt of shock at hitting the floor, the cold tiles solid against her skin. She scrambled back to her feet, her hair falling on her face. She shook it off and stared defiantly up at Jill. 

“My friends will be here soon, and they won’t be pleased either.” Emma spat, not sure if her words were even true, or how her friends might go about locating her. Jill grinned, 

“Oh, I’m counting on it. I can’t wait to be reunited with Vera again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really tough to write. Brought up a lot of bad memories, that's for sure. 
> 
> I hope you're finding the story interesting and enjoying the read, even if the subject matter can be dark. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for your support and, as always, if you want to help me out please leave a kudos/comment telling me what you think I did well/could improve on and help me by spreading the word about this story. 
> 
> Next chapter up soon! :)


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some unsettling elements as the last one did so trigger warning for homophobia and implied non-consensual sex.

** Chapter 19 **

Vera dismounted the bike before Tsuru, marching swiftly towards the building, trying her best to ignore how sickeningly familiar everything around her was. Worry and anger raged inside of her. _If they hurt her in any way,_ She thought furiously, _there is no cement wall, stupid light-filled river or broken arm on this good earth that will stop me from killing every last one of them._ Tsuru parked the bike and hurried after her. He let out a breath.

“You were here.” It wasn’t a question, Vera had already given him a rough idea of what the place was and had explained her connection to it.

“Yes.” She answered coldly, the front oak door ahead of her, her vision focussed on it. The large, square, cement building blurring at the edges. Vera completely ignored the ‘Majjannen’s Correctional Centre’ sign. She couldn’t bear to read those words ever again, and not now when she had to get Emma out of this place. “For two years.” She added bitterly. _It felt like my whole life._

“Wait, Vera, we need a plan. We can’t just-” Vera kicked the front door open. If there was a bolt keeping it shut, it broke off. The door flung wide, nearly off of its hinges, and Vera stepped inside. 

“Where is she?” Vera yelled, her words booming throughout the complex. “Where is Emma?” Vera stormed this way and that. Tsuru caught up with her. 

“Jesus, Vera!” He hissed, glancing from left to right, “You go find her, I’ll make a distraction.” Tsuru instructed, adding, “I’m not getting on your bad side.” Under his breath. Vera nodded grudgingly, he was right, after all, even if Vera’s anger was urging her to punch the first face she saw. 

Then Tsuru was running in the opposite direction, roaring at the top of his voice. “Hey! Where is she!? Where?” Guards yelled at each other, people started to swarm towards when Tsuru was. Vera ducked into a corridor, pressing herself against the wall and praying no one would see her, holding in her rage long enough to execute the plan. 

Vera’s temper snapped at the last moment and she grabbed the collar of the final guard to pass by, a small man with sunken eyes. In her rage smashed her fist into the back of his head and then slammed his head against the wall, knocking him out cold. 

He crumpled to the floor but his friends in front hadn’t noticed, they just kept running, rounding a corner. Vera left the guard there and ran in the other direction. She stopped at the first corridor and hurried down it, turning her head left and right to look into each of the cells.

“Come on, come on, come on…” Her muttering quiet amongst the cement walls. Each child she saw, each teenager hunched over a lunch tray filled with bread and butter and jam jars, was a knife to her chest. She kept pushing on, she had to, but she could already feel her arms and legs shaking, the panic within her rising. _Not now,_ She willed herself, _not now!_ She broke into a run, her feet echoing off of the floor. The sound of popping and turning tried to clamber its way into Vera’s ears, but she was so used to it that her brain blocked it out as background noise. 

Emma wasn’t on that corridor, so she went to the next one, and the next. _Emma, where are you?_ She hissed in her head. 

At the last corridor in the row, Vera froze. A woman stood at the end, arms folded. She had a black eye, and her skin was bruised. Her hair was white, not the grey with streaks of brown Vera had known it to be. Her green eyes were faded and old, but still just as harsh, just as cruel. Vera made no mistake, she knew exactly who this was. 

“Hello, Vera Ivanova.” Jill Ghojjel sniffed, looking her up and down. “I remember you, yes.” She nodded, “The rebellion took notice when a previous patient became a bodyguard for the society.” Vera stalled, that was one question that hadn’t occurred to her yet. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her voice low and filled with loathing. 

“You had a first-hand experience of what this place is about, surely you must know?” Vera snorted in contempt, 

“No, what are the rebellion doing here? What do they gain from all this?” She elaborated. Jill pursed her lips as if she knew she shouldn’t answer. After a moment of hesitation, she gave in to her ego. 

“The society can offer whatever amount of money, women and drugs to get powerful people on their side. To beat them we had to offer something they couldn’t. We had to be clever.” Jill smirked, almost excited to brag about the establishment’s exploits. “The society hadn’t sunk to the depths of giving underage persons as products. They hadn’t had the idea yet, but we had. It was the only thing we sold that they didn’t, it was our only foothold to take back Bochardess, to take back this country.” Jill tilted her head, that proud smirk still holding true, “And we got to correct the misguided along the way. It was an ingenious and efficient operation.” 

“ ‘Product’?” Vera hissed, repeating Jill’s description of the patients trapped here. She took a step towards Ms Ghojjel, as they had been forced to call her. Vera’s shoulders were squared and tensed, her fists clenched. “Not a person, a product?” Jill held her gaze silently, “Do you have any idea how it feels to be on the other side of those bars?” Vera was certainly shaking now, from head to toe. From anger, from panic, from pain. Any or all of those could be correct. 

Vera clamped her eyes shut and shook her head, feeling her emotions overcoming her, refocussing. “Where is Emma?” She reopened her eyes and fixed them on Jill, who gave a small nod.

“So rude, it’s no wonder your parents left you here to rot.” 

“Where?” Vera repeated, her voice primal. 

“Follow me.” Jill murmured carefully, her smirk having vanished. Jill disappeared down the corridor and Vera marched quickly after her. She turned the corner and caught sight of Ms Ghojjel turning into one of the hallways. Vera continued to follow and at last found Jill standing outside of a cell, the door open, a key still hanging out of the lock. The woman gestured into the cell. “She’s a little worse for wear, but otherwise unharmed.” Vera narrowed her eyes. She recognised the cell, it was the one she’d been kept in herself. 

“You’re sick.” Brown Eyes hissed, walking past Jill and into the cell. She stilled, then abruptly turned. 

“You’re naive.” Jill taunted as she closed the door behind her. The cell was empty. Vera smashed her left shoulder against the door a fraction of a second after Jill clicked it locked. The door rattled in its position but held. Vera let out a growl of anger and tried again, throwing her whole body into it. The door shifted and whined, but stayed shut. Vera’s right arm didn’t appreciate the jerky movements, and the left side of Vera’s body felt ablaze with pain, but Vera only sneered out through the small, barred window into the corridor, her brown eyes boring into Jill hatefully. “Our initial treatments have clearly worn off. Don’t worry, girl, I’ll top you up.” The woman grinned and Brown Eyes felt her sanity sliding, like a thin sheet of gas balanced on the edge of a table, gaining momentum as it gradually tilted over the edge. Then, after an age of creeping towards the inevitable, the sheet of glass suddenly plummeted towards the hard floor and shattered.

Vera let out a roar and hit the door once more. Then again, and again. It began to shift. They were designed to hold small children and teenagers, not 6 foot, well-muscled bodyguards in a fit of rage. 

Panic settled on Jill’s face and she disappeared. Vera didn’t let up, ignoring how injured and sore her body felt she continued to thrust herself at the door over and over, each hit loosening its hold. Vera was certain she was one or two hits from freedom when Jill reappeared. The woman hurriedly opened a small, horizontal slot in the door and shoved a lunch tray through it. Vera stumbled backwards and looked dumbly down at it. She heard the clicks of a cassette player as Jill activated one and her brain went blank with horror as she realised what the woman was doing. 

On the tray was an assortment of objects. A jam jar, the exact make Vera had grown so used to opening and closing in her time here, and around it photos. Some landing upright, others face down. It didn’t matter, there were enough of them. Compromising photos of homosexuals, the exact scenes she’d been subjected too as part of her treatment, stared accusingly up at her. A feeling of sickness and nausea flooded through her stomach. 

The cassette whirred into life and the recording began to play. It was so surreal hearing the recording again after so long. She’d heard it almost daily for a year and a half, and now she was hearing it again. The woman’s voice was so familiar, every syllable and intonation memorised, ingrained, into Vera’s mind. She knew what words would be spoken before they were as if they had become a part of her own body, written on the insides of her eyelids. 

“Hello, My name is Proliquet, and I’m here to talk to you about homosexuality.” She began, her voice matter of fact and pleasant as if she were advertising a new brand of _hair shine._ “Homosexuality is a filthy practice. Homosexuality is dirty and wrong.” Vera’s legs seemed to disappear beneath her, her knees finding rest on the cold, hard floor. Her arms fell limp to her sides, her eyes staring dazed at the photos on the tray. It was as if all of her fury had been drained from her veins, sucked out like the juice from a juice box. “It is against nature and it is against how this world was designed. It is disgusting behaviour.” Vera keeled over, laying her good hand on the floor, clenched in a fist. She let out a gasp, realising she’d stopped breathing since the recording had begun. 

Every breath felt strained, every muscled pulled taut. She was caught in the moment before one was sick, where all the feelings of nausea and internal discomfort reached their peak, where every muscle was tensed to its limit but no relief had yet been given. “Your homosexuality is an illness, a sickness, and should make you feel ill and sick. Because it is wrong, because it is filthy, because it is dirty.” The woman continued, her voice soothing like honey, simple and plain. Delivering the facts as they were, presenting them clearly and in a manner all could understand. 

Jill jammed the cassette through the bars and it clattered to the floor by Vera. Brown Eyes recoiled as if it were a grenade, kicking at it in panic, trying to shove it away from her. In a fit of blind fear, Vera scrambled to the other side of the cell, into the corner, and curled into a ball, her hands clamped firmly over her ears as she rocked back an forth. She didn’t know if Jill was still standing outside the cell or not, all she was aware of was that voice. 

Cold, calm, continuing. It sounded robotic now, the cassette must have been damaged in the fall, but it didn’t matter. Even if the recording jammed into silence, Vera knew the rest of it by heart. It was playing in her head now, loud and taunting. _It’s wrong. Filthy. Dirty._ Vera’s whole body was shaking. At some point she’d started crying, sniffling between sobs and cries as the two years she’d spent here crashed over her all at once, waves and waves of suffocating memories pulling at her limbs, a hungry current of unescapable recollection. The pressure on her chest was unbearable, the weight of what had happened to her too heavy to bear. Her breath was stolen from her, and each gasp felt more impossible than the last. She didn’t dare think what a mess she must look like right now, or how pathetic her inability to simply get up and turn the recording off was. Everything hurt too much to comprehend moving from her spot in the corner. 

She was here, in a cell, but not just any cell, the cell she used to inhabit. _Her_ cell. Vera glanced at the door and in that moment she wasn’t sure if she’d dreamed the past two years or not, if she’d ever really left the place. It was as if any second a man would walk through that door. He could be tall or short, good looking or ugly. 

Gentle or rough. 

Any minute now Jill and the guards would come and collect her, leading her to the treatment room where she’d be pumped full of chemicals, where she’d feel uncontrollable nausea and itching that would refuse to leave, where they’d show her those compromising images that now lay on the tray just a few feet from her. 

Vera would spend her spare time alone, silent. All she’d had was the noise of the jam jar opening and closing, all she’d had to do for entertainment was open and close it. That was the only respite she’d ever felt. 

Vera felt cold, so incredibly _cold,_ and her limbs where shivering more intensely than she’d ever experienced, as if her bones were charged with electricity trapped beneath her skin. Her heart swapped from fast beats to almost nothing and then back again and her breathing wasn’t any more consistent, the pulsing energy bearing down on every organ and muscle in a freezing, aching pain. 

Brown Eyes wasn’t sure how long she was like this for, it had to have been more than ten minutes, at least, when, almost as suddenly as this panic had seized a hold of her, it let go. 

The recording was still going, the woman’s voice echoing around the grey room, but Vera was fine. 

Vera was okay. 

Her heart had calmed, her breathing was no longer laboured nor caught in her throat. Only her hands trembled now. The voice kept on but as Vera listened to it, in this calm she was so shocked to find herself in, she felt resentment taking a hold of her, not guilt, not nausea. Vera didn’t say anything, she was silent, her mouth too dry to speak, but she did get to her feet. She stood, leant against the wall, looking up at the ceiling, her mouth hanging open as it sucked in laboured breaths.

When she finally did move, it was slow and cautiously. She was unsteady on her legs, but her eyes were filled with purpose. One step at a time she walked over to the cassette lying on the floor, her feet dragging on the ground, and leant down. With a pained grunt, she picked it up. 

Vera was mildly aware of familiar shouts and the sound of footsteps coming from outside the cell, but she was too entranced by the cassette and what it was saying to care. The woman argued about how her feelings were wrong, about how it was not what _Uurgoe_ had intended for his creations, but Vera only looked down at the thing, stunned she’d ever believed a word of it. 

Then there was a click, and the cell door opened. Vera didn’t look to see who it was, couldn’t draw her eyes away from the cassette. “A good boy or girl will train themselves to behave properly.” The woman’s recording continued, “A good son or daughter will not give into their homosexual urges.” 

“Jesus!” Vera heard Tsuru curse, cutting into her dazed state. Emma’s voice followed closely after, 

“Get those things away from her!” She cried urgently. Vera glanced over, seeing Tsuru kick the tray of photos out of the cell and to the other side of the hallway, the jam jar following after. Tsuru had kicked it with more force than necessary and the jar smashed to pieces against the grey wall, leaving a red, pulpy, splat that oozed down towards the floor.

Emma reached toward the cassette tape, pausing as if afraid to take it from Vera. Emma looked up at Brown Eyes. “Vera?” She asked in a small voice, her plain green eyes searching her face. Plain, oh so plain, green eyes.

Vera’s gaze snapped back onto the cassette in a glare and in one swift movement she threw it against the wall, shattering the cassette into silence. 

Vera took in a deep breath through her nose, puffing her chest and then letting all of the air out of her. She turned to look down at Emma, wanting nothing more than to grab her and pull her close, to press her lips against Emma’s, but Vera knew this wasn’t the place or the time. They had some talking to do first, so instead Vera settled for a tight embrace. 

She grabbed a hold of the smaller girl’s shoulders and pulled her in, wrapping her arms around her back, placing her left hand in the girl’s hair. Emma didn’t hesitate to return the hug. “What happened?” Emma asked, her voice sounding on the verge of tears. Vera gave her a squeeze, her right arm burning in protest. Brown Eyes ignored the pain, it felt so good to have Emma here, pressed up against her. To know she was safe. To feel the other girl’s warmth seeping into her skin and healing all the soreness and bruises dotted across her limbs. 

Vera put her head on the girl’s shoulder, taking in a long breath. Emma smelled a way Vera could never describe, but it was such a smell she knew she’d always recognise. It was the smell of returning home after being away for far too long, having a familiar scent come back to you so suddenly and so assuredly that you knew you’d always remember what that smell felt like. The hug lasted only a few seconds, but it was all Vera needed. She pulled away and nodded first at Emma, then at Tsuru. 

“We need to go.” She managed, her voice cracked from the crying. Emma seemed not to care that Vera didn’t answer her question and Vera sent out a silent thank you that neither Emma nor Tsuru had seen her in the state she’d been in. 

Tsuru gave a nod of agreement just as a group of young children and teenagers in grey uniforms rushed past them with loud cries of excitement. Vera stalled, her eyes following after them. 

“We needed a distraction so I stole some keys and released them.” Tsuru explained hurriedly, “We don’t have long, we need to go.” Vera’s movements felt slow until Emma grabbed a hold of her hand and yanked her along behind. Vera forced her legs into motion as the three of them raced down the hallway, towards the exit. Guards and patients scrambled around the place, screams erupting from behind them, then to their left, then somewhere in front. It was chaos. 

They were only a few steps from the door when Vera caught sight of Jill desperately typing a message onto an old computer in her room. Vera pulled her hand from Emma’s and stalked towards the room, forgetting the need to escape. Jill only noticed the tall girl once she was upon her, and had only the briefest of moments to look fearful before Vera began her assault. 

She hit the woman in the face, multiple times, then kicked her against one of the walls. Jill let out a pained yelp and collapsed to the floor. Vera kicked her, her own face turning red with rage, her voice roaring in anger. Emma watched.

“How does it feel?” Vera yelled down at Jill, crouching to grab a hold of the woman's throat, applying pressure to her airway. Jill’s eyes filled with fear as she tried to turn her face away from the tall girl. “How does it feel?” Emma’s hands fastened on Vera’s shoulders, tugging at them, 

“Vera, stop it.” She protested. Vera’s didn’t pay her any attention, every ounce of pain she’d ever suffered at the hands of this place pooled into her grip. Jill spluttered and gasped, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Vera, you don’t want to kill her.” Emma tried to reason.

“Sorry about this.” Tsuru’s voice cut in, and then Brown Eyes felt an abrupt collision to the back of her head. She swayed in stunned silence and tried to stand back up, releasing her grip on the old woman, who fell to her hands and knees, breathing raggedly. Emma slid her arms underneath Vera’s shoulders, holding her steady moments before she would have fallen. 

“Filthy.” Jill spat, blood dripping out of her mouth. Vera’s fury re-ignited and she made another, now dazed, lunge for Jill. _I’m not filthy, I’m not wrong. You are for making me think as much._ Emma held her back, barely. Vera was strong enough to overpower Emma, to get to Jill, to swiftly finish the job. She could kill the woman who’d authored so much of her suffering and yet she allowed herself to be pulled back, allowed her anger to cool. 

Deep down she knew that Jill simply wasn’t worth it. Another part of her mind was dimly aware of how awful it felt for Emma and Tsuru to see her like this, so angry and hurt that she was behaving like an animal. She turned to leave, shaking Emma off of her, but caught sight of the message Jill had been halfway through sending. She gave a tired nod towards the screen, 

“Take a photo, Tsuru.” Vera instructed, her voice low and tired. Tsuru took out his phone and snapped a picture, not bothering to read any of it yet. There was no time. 

Vera gave one last, spiteful, kick to Jill’s stomach before leaving, fury still radiating off of her. Then Vera as stalking down the corridor, putting thoughts of Jill and cold-blooded murder out of her head.

Emma caught up with her, hovering at her side, casting concerned glances up at her. Vera was aware of her twitching demeanour, her tensed shoulders and hands clenching and unclenching. She looked down at Emma with apologetic eyes but remained silent. She’d calm down and then they could talk. 

Tsuru pushed ahead of them, slotting one of many keys on a chain into the lock of the front door, pushing it open. 

“Hey!” A guard called, noticing them amid the chaos. Emma darted outside first, leading the escape, followed by a more subdued Vera and finally Tsuru, who glanced back to make sure no one was going to take any shots at them. 

“Two guards chasing after us!” Tsuru informed them as they approached his motorbike, parked by the pavement. Emma jumped on first, then Vera, behind her. There was an awkward moment where Tsuru positioned himself in front of them, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh at the three of them squashed onto the small vehicle. 

The laugh vanished when the bike rumbled to life and Tsuru hit the accelerator. Vera fastened her arms around Emma’s waist, who in turn held a tight grip around Tsuru. The man winced in pain, “Watch the bullet wound.” He protested as the sped away, to which Emma apologised and repositioned her hold. Vera glanced over her shoulder to see the two guards standing, watching them helplessly, as they left. Majjanen’s Correctional Centre shrank into the distance.

 

The journey back to the cottage had felt exhausting to Vera, whose whole body was sore and tired. She was numbly aware of just how ominous and empty the streets of Bochardess were, like the retreat of the ocean before a tsunami. It was as if the people knew, could sense, something was about to happen. Or perhaps they were preparing to join in with whatever it might be. Perhaps a particularly busy night of gambling and pleasure was approaching or, Vera thought, her stomach sinking, perhaps something more dangerous would crash down upon the city. 

Tsuru drove through the forest and then pulled the bike to a stop before the cottage. Vera dismounted first, sliding off the back of the bike. Her legs and arms were sore down to the bone and her movements felt jerky and pained. Emma followed after her, but Tsuru took a moment, bending over, a hand gently pressed to his side as he took short, shallow breaths. Emma glanced at Vera, now leaning against the door frame of the cottage, head resting against the wall, her brown eyes half shut, then to Tsuru, face pale, eyes unfocussed, sitting completely still. 

“We’re in a great state, aren’t we?” She asked. Vera and Tsuru looked over at her, then Tsuru laughed ruefully, and Vera couldn’t help an amused smile. Tsuru leant back, his breath deepening as he regained his composure, his bullet wound was clearly causing him bother. The man let his head hang back, looking up at the sky. Vera followed his gaze, noticing a light snowfall. 

“How long…are these…bloody winters?” Tsuru complained, his voice catching between heavy breaths that misted in the air. Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath, 

“Once the Bochardian sunshine hits in the spring it’ll melt any memories of snow you’ve ever had.” Vera felt her head clear. The fast journey on the motorbike had filled her thoughts with rushing wind but now her vision had stopped swaying she could calmly move away from the wall and into the cottage. The door had been open, Tsuru had forgotten to shut it the last time they’d left. Being burgled was the least of their concerns right now.

Vera aimed straight for the couch in the dining room but only managed to make it to the doorway before her balance betrayed her. She swayed on her feet and reached out, turning, her left hand finding purchase on the stair’s banister. Vera lowered herself down, sitting on the third step, her feet resting on the hallway’s wooden floor. She took in a long breath through her nose, and exhaled through her mouth, the simple act only highlighting the spots of pain and soreness throughout her body. Her cuts and bruises from the morning re-opening and tingling with discomfort. Vera hung her head, feeling too tired to walk up the stairs and lay down in her bed, and too disoriented to make it to the couch. She was numbly aware of Emma and Tsuru following in after her, Emma shutting the door with a quiet click. 

“I’m taking a bath.” Tsuru muttered, passing Vera and thumping up the stairs with slow, heavy steps. Emma looked up after him, then down at Vera. 

“I’ll go get the first aid kit.” She said, moving towards the dining room. Vera sat still, realising too late the scene the sitting room was still in. A noose hanging from the ceiling and glass and blood on the floor. When Emma returned, a mismatch of bandages, disinfectant wipes and other items in her arms, her face was pale and her eyes narrowed in anger. Vera looked up at her, feeling pained at causing Emma such concern. It felt strange to have people worry about your wellbeing. 

Emma didn’t say anything, she just knelt in front of Vera, settling between her outstretched legs resting on the stairs. She placed the medical kit on the steps beside them. Emma looked Vera up and down. “Take your top off.” She instructed. Vera’s heart stalled and she couldn’t help an awkward aversion of her eyes. Emma smirked, her plain green eyes changing from angry to amused, “Not like that, fool.” She added. Vera nodded dimly, feeling embarrassment rise within her, and gently grasped the bottom of her turtleneck top and pulled. Her right arm gave a scream of protest and Vera winced. There was no adrenaline forcing her on and the wounds and soreness were so painfully clear in her senses. Emma shooed Vera’s hands off of the hem of her shirt. “Allow me.”

“No.” Vera huffed, refusing her dignity to be any more ruined. Emma arched an eyebrow at her, 

“Go on, then.” She challenged, folding her arms and tilting her head. Vera held Emma’s gaze, then grabbed a hold of her shirt once more, hauling it up to her shoulders. She was incredibly slow and careful, as some of the cuts had healed onto the material, leaving her with no choice but to slowly rip it from her skin. It wasn’t pleasant, but she’d been spared any large cuts doing such a thing, so the pain was minimal. Vera had to stop, though, as she failed to raise it any higher than her shoulders. Her arms refused to work the angle right, not without intense pain, anyway. Emma’s voice was gentle, “Hold still, silly.” She murmured, placing her hands over Vera’s, taking a hold of the material as Brown Eyes let go, admitting defeat. 

“Alright.” She muttered testily. Vera looked at Emma as her hands slipped out from underneath the other girl’s. Her fingers felt warm from the touch. Emma’s eyes were narrowed in concentration, and Vera felt drawn in by the simplicity of Emma, the soft bronze of her skin, the curve of her lips. Emma gently lifted the top over Vera’s head and laid it down on the floor behind her and, thank _Uurgoe,_ folded the thing. Emma went to apply disinfectant when her eyes caught sight of the bruising around Vera’s neck. She softly traced the pattern with a finger, her eyes narrowed to slits. 

“Dear Lord, Vera.” Emma breathed, looking up at her, “You nearly died.” Brown Eyes gave a slow nod, she didn’t know what else to say; the gentle touch of Emma left her speechless, especially when so unfairly combined with her voice. Emma dropped her hand, shaking her head sadly, “How awful people can be.” She muttered, “Are all humans like this?” 

“Some.” Vera admitted, wishing the bruising wasn’t so obvious. Emma let out a sigh as if the weight of the entire cottage had been placed atop her shoulders. “But not all.” Vera added. Emma’s eyes searched her face, and then she gave a nod, satisfied with the answer, returning her attention back to Vera’s wounds. Brown Eyes watched Emma as the girl assessed the state Vera was in so carefully. Vera couldn’t help another pang of warmth at seeing how much care Emma felt for her, how worried she was. 

Vera realised that if something were to happen to her there would be people that would actually care. It was both a relief and a burden, a weight lifted and a weight placed. Vera pushed the thought from her mind and simply allowed herself to watch the shorter girl examine her, unashamedly taking in her appearance. Had Vera’s mind been in a less tuned state she might have felt guilty for her staring but was too tired to bring herself to care. Her dazed watching ended as Emma applied disinfectant wipes to her body’s cuts. Brown Eyes let out a hiss and gripped the edge of the step she was sitting on, attempting to ignore the pain. Emma’s eyes shot up to Vera’s face in worry, then back to the cuts she was cleaning. “I know.” Emma murmured. Vera huffed, 

“I doubt you’ve ever been cut before in your life.” She muttered grumpily. Emma shrugged, 

“Lots of scraped knees, bruised hands. I was very into my sport.” The shorter girl explained. Vera looked down at her as she worked. It felt awful, sitting there, with only her sports bra on, her upper torso entirely bare, and with Emma so close. She wasn't curved like Emma was, she wasn’t pretty like Emma was. Her shoulders weren’t dainty and soft, her hair wasn’t long and didn’t frame her face like Emma’s did her’s. 

And yet, the way Emma’s fingers traced over her skin, the way her face was flushed as much as Vera’s was, and her slow, nervous movements made Vera wonder if she looked as welcoming to Emma as Emma did to her. Vera’s stomach tightened pleasantly at the thought. 

“Em?” Vera breathed. Emma looked up at her, “I’m sorry.” Silence. Emma’s eyes searched Vera’s face, her mouth pursing as she deliberated her words. Emma shook her head, taking one of her hands away from Vera’s cuts to press it against Vera’s waist, holding firmly to her side as if she were afraid Vera wouldn’t be able to sit up on her own. She leant in,

“ _I’m_ sorry.” She murmured, “I pushed you too far, I acted as if I had a right to your history when I don’t.” Emma blinked a few times, looking down before looking back into Vera’s eyes. Green into brown. “I’m going to stop asking questions I shouldn’t, Vera. I’m going to respect you and your past form now on, I promise.” Vera felt stunned. 

“But I said all those awful things, Emma.” Brown Eyes protested, leaning forward herself, “Remember? ‘Filthy, dirty, wrong’? I was acting like a horrid person.” Emma gave Vera’s waist a comforting squeeze, 

“Vera, I swear I didn’t mean to, but whilst I was being kept there, at that place, in that prison, I found out a few things.” Vera felt as if she’d been turned into a statue, stone incapable of movement. _How much does she know?_ Shame and embarrassment flooded through Vera. Emma closed her eyes, “I wish I hadn’t. What I found out was none of my business, it was not information for me to take, but I took it anyway, because I was naive and blind and a fool.” Emma opened her eyes, “I know you were a patient there, Vera, and while I don’t know for sure what happened to you there, I do have some idea of what sick things they did to you, what sick things they made you believe.” The blood in Vera’s veins felt frozen, the idea of Emma knowing what had happened to her shook through her core. What could Emma possibly think of her now that she knew just where she came from? Now that she knew what awful things had occurred to her? 

Emma didn’t seem fazed, and simply put the wipes down and fastened her other hand around Vera’s waist as well, pulling her toward her. Vera didn’t protest, her breath had left her and it felt so cathartic. Emma’s words were so soft and slow, so accepting. Vera didn’t know what she’d been afraid of Emma thinking, but whatever it was, her fear had not been realised. “I swear, Vera, It was my ignorance and the callous actions of those men and women that caused you to say and act how you did. It wasn’t your fault, Vera, it was mine.” Brown Eyes lifted her left arm, wrapping it behind Emma’s neck, placing her hand on the back of the girls head, lacing her fingers into the soft, dark hair. 

“It’s not an excuse, I still shouldn’t have said what I did.” Vera answered, but her words were becoming thin and weak, Emma’s lips destroying her focus. Emma shrugged, 

“Perhaps, but it’s an explanation. It’s context.” Emma smiled ruefully, “I thought it was an explanation I wanted to know, but now I’m not so sure.” Emma looked back up at Vera, “All I know is that I care about you and, if you’re willing, I’ll share the burden of your past with you.” A thrill of warmth raced through Vera, so pleasant and breathtaking.

“Only if I can share in yours as well.” Vera whispered, her forehead now against Emma’s. Emma gave the smallest of nods in response. Vera felt something overcome her, a surge of bravery. “Em?”

“Yes?” 

“Can I kiss you?” Emma smiled, the most natural and simple smile Vera had ever seen. Emma said something under her breath, Vera was certain it was ‘please do’, and then she felt Emma’s lips on hers, and her lips on Emma’s. 

She wasn’t sure if she’d leant in, or if Emma had. She didn’t know who kissed who, and perhaps that was because they’d both kissed each other at the same time, they’d both leant in, they’d both smiled into the kiss, and pulled each other closer. It wasn’t Vera kissing Emma or Emma kissing Vera, it was them kissing each other. It was mutual, and that fact alone made Vera feel dizzy. 

The soft noises Emma made, her hands, one tangled in her blonde hair and the other tightly around her waist, sent powerful feelings throughout Vera. But the thing that shocked Brown Eyes the most was just how different this experience was. Vera had kissed people before, she wasn’t inexperienced by any means, but it had never been her free choice. Emma wasn’t forcing herself on Vera, Vera wasn’t trapped in a cell, and Vera wasn’t forced to be with Emma for money to pay for food, shelter or her addictions. Vera simply wanted to be with Emma, no strings attached and, from the way Emma was leaning into the kiss, and holding her close, and the thump of the shorter girls heart Vera felt when she splayed her hand flat on Emma’s chest, Emma simply wanted to be with Vera, too. Such a feeling may seem basic, but to Vera, it was revolutionary. Groundbreaking. 

Then Emma was tilting her head in such a way that Vera couldn’t think on how freeing it felt anymore because she was too busy enjoying the moment. How Emma fitted against her, how her hands felt as they trailed over her skin. She smelt so good and felt even better, and Vera was stunned she’d ever tried to resist something so wonderful. She realised now that such resistance had been futile.

Emma moved her hands off of Vera’s waist and hair, and Vera felt a pang of disappointment, but it vanished when Emma’s hand reappeared on Vera’s cheeks, cupping her face lovingly. Emma held the kiss still for a few moments, and Vera allowed the last few seconds to remain memories in her brain, tightening her grip around Emma’s gorgeous, curved waist, before they pulled apart. Emma bit her lip as if she’d just stolen more of her father’s alcohol. As if she’d done something wild and rebellious but ultimately right. Vera, for all her grumpiness and irritability, was smiling too, her brown eyes looking, lovesick, at Emma. “I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone before now.” 

“I’ve never even kissed anyone before.”

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Tsuru’s shocked voice carried down from somewhere upstairs. Emma and Vera jumped in surprise, then de-tangled themselves from each other. There was a pause, some scuffling noises, and then Tsuru appeared at the top of the stairs, a towel wrapped around his waist, a black t-shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, his hair poking up at odd angles. “ ‘Before now’?” Tsuru echoed Emma’s words, then looked from Vera to Emma and back again. Emma avoided eye contact, her face flushing a deep shade of red. Vera did much the same, clearing her throat in discomfort. The man’s eyebrows shot up. Then they flew back down again as Tsuru cast them a teasing look, letting out a low whistle, “Well, well.” 

“Shut it, Tsuru-” Vera protested, but Tsuru wasn’t to be stopped, 

“Getting some action, I see.” He turned to saunter off. Emma shot a retort after him, 

“Which is more than can be said for you.” Tsuru froze, glancing over his shoulder down at them. 

“Touché.” He muttered. Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion,

“What does a fencing term have to do with this?” She asked. Tsuru arched an eyebrow at her. 

“I’m… gonna go have my bath.” Was all he said, disappearing. Vera took pity on Emma, 

“It’s a phrase, Emma, when someone says something clever in an argument.” 

“We weren’t arguing.” Emma insisted. Vera smirked, 

“You were banting, it’s a similar format but a different tone.” 

“I know what banter is.” Emma scoffed. Vera couldn’t help another smile, before turning to look up the stairs, 

“Be quick, Tsuru, we need to go over what we should do next.” Brown Eyes heard a half-interested grunt in acknowledgement, then the sloshing of water, and then silence. Vera turned back to Emma, who had a look in her eyes. “What?” 

“I just can’t believe we kissed.” She murmured, her voice excited as if she were sharing some new gossip which, Vera supposed, she was. Just gossip about herself, rather than others. It was an oddly fitting thing, Emma gossiping, but only about herself. 

Emma’s words hit Vera. They _had_ kissed. Vera had crossed the line she’d been trying not to cross for so long. She’d fallen for a girl and she’d acted on her feelings for her and frankly it was the best damn line she’d crossed in her whole life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos/comment to let me know how you're finding the story!!


	21. Chapter 20

** Chapter 20 **

Emma finished fixing Vera up. Applying disinfectant to her cuts and putting plasters and bandages over the particularly bad ones. She’d peeled the bandages from around Vera’s right arm, and had winced at the sight below. 

“Ouch.” Emma muttered, giving the swollen, black and purple area a prod. 

“Hey!” Vera protested, the prod sending a jolt of pain through her arm, “Careful, okay?” She hissed. Emma ducked her head apologetically, 

“Sure, my bad.” The girl tilted Vera’s arm from left to right. “Broken or sprained?” 

“No clue.” 

“Hmm.” Emma examined it closely. “Try moving your fingers.” Emma suggested. Vera did so, gritting her teeth against the burn it sent through her muscles. Her fingers moved, slowly, but they moved. “Just sprained.” Emma claimed. Vera arched an eyebrow, 

“Sorry, Doctor Chavez, I didn’t realise you had medical training.” Vera teased as Emma re-wrapped Vera’s arm.

“Ha ha.” Emma said sarcastically, “It’s common sense, you can’t move your fingers when your arm is broken, but you can if it’s just a sprain.” 

“How is that common sense?” 

“It is if you’ve both broken and sprained your arm before.” Emma explained, then, added, “On separate occasions, that is.” She was gathering the medical kit together and stuffing it into a plastic bag. Vera stilled, wondering what had caused Emma to both sprain and break her arm. An image of John flashed in her mind. Vera opened her mouth to say something but, as if reading her thoughts, Emma held out a hand to silence her, “I hurt them doing sports, John’s never given me such severe injuries.” Vera closed her mouth, accepting Emma’s defence. Then, reassessing the words Emma had used, spoke. 

“But he _has_ given you injuries?” Emma had been going to deposit the medical kit in the cupboard. She stopped on her way there and glanced over her shoulder at Vera, 

“He loves me.” Emma said, her jaw clenched. Vera was about to say something else, but Emma gave her a look that silenced her. “You don’t know him like I do.” She added, disappearing into the sitting room. Vera tentatively got to her feet, her legs shaky and her injuries sore, and followed at a more subdued pace. She caught sight of Emma entering the kitchen and putting the bag into the closet, closing the door and pulling the latch on it across. She stood looking steely eyed at the wooden door for a moment, then turned back to Vera. “I’m so tired.” Emma admitted. Vera gestured at the couch, 

“Our last nap was interrupted.” Vera murmured softly, Emma looked at her, “Shall we pick up where we left off?” Emma smiled slowly and nodded. By the time Tsuru clattered down the stairs, dressed in baggy, comfortable looking red pyjamas, Vera and Emma were asleep, cuddled up on the sofa. Vera felt the presence of a third person and her eyes squinted open. Tsuru looked smugly down at her, then wriggled his eyebrows. “Don’t be a pervert.” Vera grumbled, shutting her eyes again, “I’m too sleepy to punch you.” Tsuru smirked, 

“You aren’t hitting anything with that jacked up arm.”   
“I’m a lefty.” Vera threatened, giving her left, not sprained, hand a move. It was only a small move, given her left arm was poking out from underneath Emma’s waist, her right arm laying carefully across Emma’s hip. Emma herself was curled into Vera, her head pressed against her shoulder. Tsuru leant down and poked Emma, waking the girl, who furrowed her brow and let out a groan of protest. 

“Come on, both of you.” Tsuru scolded, “You should know better than to fall asleep on a sofa, go upstairs and get to bed.” Vera glanced across the room at the window. It was just starting to get dark. “We can work out what our next move is tomorrow, right now-” Tsuru was cut off by a vicious yawn. Brown Eyes raised an eyebrow, 

“Sleep time?” She asked as Emma sat up slowly, making sure not to disturb Vera’s arm as she did so. Emma gave a nod of agreement, 

“I’d love some more sleep.” She murmured, getting off the sofa drowsily, Vera following after her. Tsuru finished his yawn, giving one of his eyes a rub, 

“Yeah.” He gestured upstairs. Emma led the group, taking each step sleepily. The shorter girl entered her room and quickly did her teeth and changed into her silk pyjama shorts and shirt. Vera took her time to place her day clothes into the wash, grab her now dry black pyjamas and make her bed. She went to set her alarm when Tsuru’s voice, from behind, caught her off guard. “We should sleep together.” The man suggested. Emma peeped out of her bedroom doorway to look at them. 

“Don’t be a pervert!” Vera repeated, her face reddening at the inappropriate request. Tsuru wafted a hand at her dismissively, 

“Stop flattering yourself, I just don’t want a repeat of last time.” He looked meaningfully back at Emma, “The rebellion knows where we are so we’re going to need to keep a watch out as we sleep and stay close to each other.” He pointed a thumb back at himself, “I’m such a gentleman that I’ll take the first shift and keep a look out.” Vera stood looking at him silently then gave a numb nod, too tired to resist. 

“Fine. I’ll swap over at a bit after midnight and watch until morning.” 

“Uh uh.” Emma cut in, walking over to them, her bare feet tapping down on the carpet as she moved. “I’m taking a watch, too.” Brown Eyes assessed her, then shrugged, 

“That’s fair.” 

“No, we are your bodyguards, it’s _our_ job to take care of _you_.” Tsuru protested. Vera put her hand on Tsuru’s shoulder, 

“Tsuru, can we be real for a moment?” She said, her words slurred from weariness, “Our title of ‘bodyguards’ is just that by this point. A title.” She gestured at Emma, “She saved me from drowning and you from bleeding out, for _Uurgoe’s_ sake. She’s not our charge anymore, she’s our equal.” Emma gave a nod, 

“I may not have the training you do, Tsuru, or the…” Emma paused, her mouth hanging open in an ‘aaah’ as she thought, “Whatever it is Vera has.” 

“Hey.” Vera narrowed her eyes in mild offence. “I have plenty of things.” 

“A tragic backstory?” Tsuru snickered. Vera jabbed him in the ribs with her good elbow. “Ouch!” 

“Be glad that was your un-shot side.” Vera hissed. Emma gave a laugh,

“Okay, okay, but you get my point. You two have your things, and I’ve shown that I have mine. We each contribute a skill and work together, so it’s only fair that I also take a watch, and give you two a chance to sleep.” Tsuru looked from Emma to Vera, unconvinced. Vera pursed her lips at him. 

“She makes a good point.” 

“Alright.” Tsuru exhaled. “You take the morning watch, Vera you take the midnight watch, and I’ll take the first watch.” Emma thanked him and then disappeared back into her room. Tsuru wriggled his eyebrows at Vera, “Go on, hop in bed with her.” Vera went to elbow him again but he was ready and moved backwards, “Sorry!” He laughed, not sounding the slightest bit sincere. Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath, moving past him towards Emma’s bedroom. 

She slipped under the sheets of Emma’s double bed as Tsuru followed in after, shutting Emma’s bedroom door and propping a chair against the door handle to keep it shut. He grabbed another chair and sat by the darkening window, looking out over the grounds silently. Emma nudged herself over to Vera and returned her arms back around Vera’s waist, holding her close. Vera slowed her breathing and returned the hold, forgetting entirely about setting an alarm, about keeping the sheets of the bed neat, and about keeping her sleep under control. It was the easiest sleep she’d ever found. 

 

Vera stood in the sitting room looking out the bay window with her arms crossed. The light snowfall from yesterday had turned into a storm. White clusters of cold fell down to the ground and everything was hidden beneath thick layers of glinting ice and snow, and heaps more were dropping from above. 

The fast winds were mainly countered by the trees around them, but Vera could hear them above the tops of the trees, whistling with great speeds. _A blizzard._ She had realised when she’d awoken, souring her mood. _We’re trapped in here._ Tsuru and Emma were sitting on the table by the bay window, each hunched over a bowl of cereal. They’d run out of milk and so Tsuru and Emma had used water instead. Vera had refused, she wasn’t touching cereal made with anything other than milk, no matter how hungry Vera was; it was just wrong. 

“So.” Tsuru said, mouth full. 

“Eww, Tsuru, please.” Emma begged, “Please, _please_ just keep your mouth shut or swallow.” Tsuru took a second to deliberately swallow his food, then continued, 

“What do we know? What’s the plan?” Brown Eyes looked down at Tsuru. Usually, he was giving orders and instructing them what to do, it felt odd to have him ask for suggestions. Vera gave a shrug, beginning to pace around the room. 

“Leaving the cottage is out of the question.” She motioned her head at the window, towards the howling noise of the wind. “I think that much is clear.” 

“Why?” Emma asked, “We can just wrap up warm and brave it.”

“We wouldn’t just be going for a stroll if we left.” Vera explained, “We’d be looking for somewhere to lie low or escape too, which means a lot of aimless walking. Not to mention that with visibility so low it’ll be near impossible to see anywhere to lie low until it’s right on top of us. It’s safer to wait it out here where we have our bearings, know our surroundings, and aren’t going to freeze to death.” Emma crinkled her nose,

“It’s not that cold out there.” She protested, “I’ve gone out during the cold before, I love the snow.” Vera tilted her head, 

“How long were you out there for?” 

“An hour?” Emma guessed. 

“Trust me, being stuck out in a blizzard for more than a couple of hours is very different than going out for just one. Once you start to get cold it’s so quick and painful you’ll barely have time to realise it’s even happening, and then you’re so incapable of moving you’ll slowly fade until you’re dead.” Vera shrugged, “I’m not ruling it out, if we really need to we can wrap up warm and risk the road, I just think it’s smarter to wait as long as we can _before_ we do that.” Tsuru gave a nod, 

“I agree. We can take time to recover from our injuries, rest up, eat some food and think over what we know.” Emma was silent, studying her bowl. She gave her head a few slow nods, then looked up, 

“Okay.” She said, sounding at peace with the decision, “It’s two against one, so I guess we’re staying here.” She glanced from Tsuru to Vera, her face shifting as they moved on from the topic, “Speaking of what we know, how did you two know where to find me?” She asked. Tsuru leant back in his chair guiltily. 

“Yeah, about that.” Tsuru sucked in a breath, “I used the tracking device on you.” Vera looked at Tsuru, raising an eyebrow. She was surprised at how suddenly he’d revealed it, but guessed it was better to get it over with. Emma was silent, as if the words hadn’t really hit her, then her eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“You better be joking.” She said evenly. Tsuru pursed his lips, 

“No, sorry.”

“When did you plant it on me?” Emma asked. Tsuru looked down at the floor. Vera realised that this was the hard part, telling Emma it was John who’d done it. Perhaps it would make it better, or perhaps it would make it worse, Vera couldn’t tell. 

“ _I_ didn’t.” Tsuru’s voice was small. Emma stared at him dumbly, then turned in confusion to Vera. Brown Eyes felt her heart sink and gave her head a shake, letting Emma know it hadn’t been her, either, who’d planted it. Emma leant back in her chair, her face twisting in disbelief and disgust. 

“No.” She choked out. 

“I’m sorry, Emma, but he was just trying to protect you.” Tsuru tried to comfort her. Emma’s breath caught in her throat, and her hand shot up to the golden cross necklace around her neck. Vera’s heart sunk even further. 

“You both need to stop lying about him. He’s my father, he wouldn’t do that. He’s a _good man_.” Emma’s voice sounded like a frightened animal, unsure and wailing. 

“We wouldn’t lie to you, Emma. Not about this.” Brown Eyes said gently, stopping herself from saying anything too hurtful about John and his character. 

“What was the tracking device?” Emma’s voice was low and cold. Tsuru stilled, putting his hands flat on the table, he let out a breath and nodded towards Emma, towards her neck, 

“The cross.” He explained, “He put it in the cross.” Emma stood up so quickly her chair clattered backwards and onto the floor. Emma’s hand was fastened so tightly around the golden cross her knuckles had paled. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were squeezed tight, the betrayal on her face plain to see. 

“He gave this to me as a gift.” She opened her palm, allowing the necklace to fall back to rest by her collar bones, “He was just mocking me.” Her mouth trembled, “It’s strange, thinking you know someone, then finding out that perhaps you don’t know the real them after all.” 

“He was just trying to protect you.” Vera offered, “Even if his actions were wrong.” She detested John, but he was Emma’s father, and important to her, and Vera hated seeing how this was affecting the girl. Brown Eyes had to admit, though, that Emma seemed more upset by this than she would have expected. Sure, it was betrayal, and Emma had every right to be angry, but she looked ready to turn her back on her father. Emma nodded, her eyes dim.

“I suppose.” She murmured, and somehow the sad acceptance of the man’s actions was even worse than the look of pained betrayal. Vera glanced down at the necklace, then gave a laugh. Emma glanced up at her questioningly. 

“The cross guaranteed your safe return.” Brown Eyes commented, shaking her head in disbelief. Emma regarded her. Vera shrugged, her face returning to neutral as she realised herself, “It’s nothing.” She muttered. Emma took a few calming breaths, then picked her chair up and sat back down, her face determined.

“What do we know?” She said. 

“Emma-” Tsuru began. Emma waved him off, 

“I’m not mad at you, Tsuru. Just give me something to be distracted by.” Vera grabbed a chair and pulled it up along side them, glancing at the white outside. 

“Well, we know the rebellion and the society are fighting over control of the city.” She began. Emma nodded, 

“Right, and they’re doing so by bribing powerful and wealthy people.”

“With _bollys_.” Tsuru offered. Vera winced at the word.

“Pleasure houses, gambling dens, drugs, you name it.” Vera confirmed, her voice wavering. Tsuru and Emma glanced over at her. Vera shot them a cold look, “I’m fine.” She growled, forcing her voice to remain level. Emma gave a nod, 

“The rebellion wants to kidnap me, but not hurt me.” She smirked, “That we can be sure of now, given that they had the chance to kill me and didn’t.” 

“Did they say anything while they held you captive? Or give anything away?” Vera cut in. Emma went silent. She looked down at her hands. 

“Yes.” Her voice was soft. Vera felt a foreboding feeling creep up her back. She glanced at Tsuru, who shot her an equally concerned look. 

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Vera asked, baring her teeth. Emma shook her head. 

“No. Just made me feel uncomfortable.” The shorter girl looked up, turning her eyes on Vera.

“What, then?” Brown Eyes asked. Emma let out a long breath. 

“That woman, Jill, she gave me a tour of the place. Of all the things they do to those poor children locked up there.” Emma opened her mouth to continue, but the girl’s words seemed to catch in her throat. She closed her mouth and swallowed, clasping her hands together nervously, “She also mentioned that-” Emma cut herself off, looking out the window into the storm. It was the face of a girl about to jump off a cliff’s edge, not knowing if her parachute would work, if her bungee cord would hold. “Jill said that my father was on his way.” She turned back to Tsuru and Vera, “Jill, a member of the rebellion, said that my father was on his way there. To a rebellion establishment.” Emma’s furrowed her brow, “I think John might be working for the rebellion.” Vera startled, her eyes looking past Emma as her mind raced with thought. “He’s my father, and he’s been tracking me, and working for the enemy, and none of this makes sense.” Emma hung her head, clutching her sides tightly. “I didn’t want to believe it, but why would Jill lie?” 

“It can’t be true.” Vera said suddenly. Emma looked weakly up at her, 

“It’s okay, Vera. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but now, knowing he’s been tracking me too, I guess I just don’t know my own father as well as I thought I did.” Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath of frustration.

“Trust me, I despise the man, and it wouldn’t shock me to discover him a turncoat. But it simply doesn’t fit with what we know.” Vera reasoned, “If he was working for the rebellion why would he keep you hidden in here, why would he hire bodyguards to stop his own organisation successfully kidnapping you?” Vera shrugged, “I just don’t see what he’d stand to gain by working for the rebellion when he has a pretty good spot with the society.” Tsuru murmured his agreement, 

“Maybe you misheard her, Emma. It just doesn’t make sense.” He added. Emma shook her head adamantly, 

“I know what I heard.” She asserted, “I was as confused as you, I even asked her why my own father would try to kidnap me, because you’re right, it makes no sense. But if he’s willing to lie to his own daughter about one of the most important gifts he’s ever given her then-” Emma’s eyes were brimming with tears now, her face reddening, her words speeding into each other. The girl took a breath and composed herself. “I just don’t know anymore.” Vera, despite herself, reached her left arm towards Emma, her hand palm up and open. Emma regarded it, then Vera, and took a hold of her hand. Vera gave the girls hand a squeeze and Emma shut her eyes, as if focussing on the feeling of Vera’s hand as she wiped her eyes dry. After a few moments Emma retracted her hand, and Vera hers. Brown Eyes hated to ask Emma more questions, but they had to get to the bottom of this. Vera’s stomach already felt tight with worry. 

“What did Miss Ghojjel say in response to your question?” She asked. Emma opened her eyes, looking at the table quietly. She pursed her lips, 

“She didn’t answer it directly, just said that I ‘hadn’t been kidnapped, not this time anyway.’” Emma did air quotes as she spoke, then dropped her hands back to her sides, “I’m so confused, all I know is my father is somehow involved.” Silence settled over the room. Vera turned the words over in her head, _‘You haven’t been kidnapped, not this time anyway.’_ It made little sense to her. Emma had been kidnapped, there was no other way to describe it. Vera decided it had just been Jill playing mind games with Emma. She was a nasty woman, after all. “I’m going to get changed.” Emma said suddenly, standing up from the table. She walked out of the sitting room and up the stairs without another word. Vera watched after her glumly. She turned back to the window, shaking her head. 

“What a mess.” She muttered. Tsuru shrugged, 

“She’s got John for a father. It was going to happen eventually.” He said flatly. Vera clenched her jaw, 

“It just doesn’t fit, though. John can’t be rebellion.” 

“He didn’t want us investigating why the rebellion wanted to kidnap Emma.” Tsuru pointed out, “Rather suspicious if you ask me.” 

“I know, I have a memory, Tsuru. But if John was rebellion there would be no point in the rebellion kidnapping Emma in the first place, he’d just take her to wherever they wanted her himself.” Tsuru paused in thought. 

“Unless…” His voice trailed off. 

“What?”

“What if John needed to keep his cover as a loyal society member through all of this? Imagine if the child of a high up member of the society was kidnapped by the rebellion. The person would be justified in campaigning for the society to hold of their attacks on the rebellion to ensure the safety of that child. John could petition the society to behave in a manner beneficial to the rebellion under the disguise of being blackmailed. He’d remain a trusted member of the society whilst actually helping the rebellion.” Tsuru turned to Vera, “If the rebellion loses, John hides that he ever worked for them, if they win, he jumps ships and becomes a high up for the rebellion. Either way, he’s better off.” Vera narrowed her eyes sceptically. “It would explain why Jill said Emma wasn’t really being kidnapped.”

“But it doesn’t explain why John would go and visit her whilst the rebellion were holding her.” Vera objected, “Why go to all this trouble getting your daughter kidnapped, and hiring bodyguards to keep your cover, only to blow it by visiting her the second she’s captured?” Brown Eyes shook her head, “It still doesn’t fit, Tsuru.” The man let out a breath of frustration, but gave a grudging nod of his head in agreement. 

“More mysteries we don’t know the answer to.” He hissed. Vera took a few moments to take in the outside world, the hissing winds and biting snow, then turned back to Tsuru. 

“Did you take a photo of that message Jill was typing before we left?” She asked. Tsuru took a second to grasp what she was referring to, then nodded. 

“Yeah, I did.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up. “Hold on.” He murmured as he tapped the screen. He paused, his eyes darting across the phone as he read the message he’d photographed. His face paled. Tsuru didn’t say anything, merely handed the phone over to Vera in a silent stupor. She took it cautiously, looking him up and down. 

“What is it?” Her voice was fearful. Tsuru looked at Vera numbly, then out of the window. 

“Our whole job was a lie.” He said quietly. Vera felt dread settle in her belly. She looked down at the phone and read the half written message. Jill was speaking to Emma’s father, warning him that there was an issue at the correctional centre, and that his daughter had most likely been taken back to the society. The last sentence was cut off, Vera figured that was when she’d assaulted Jill. At first Vera didn’t understand how this changed anything, but then her eyes wandered up to who the email was addressed to, and her veins went cold. Everything fit into place in the most awful way Vera could have imagined. Tsuru was right, their whole job _was_ a lie. If this message was to be believed, Vera and Tsuru weren’t Emma’s bodyguards. Vera and Tsuru were her captors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is enjoying it so far! Some big revelations next chapter, see you then!


	22. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support! I'm so happy with all the lovely comments I've received :)

** Chapter 21 **

Emma had thrown on a long-sleeved, pastel blue shirt and a black skirt with matching tights. It felt so odd to Vera to think that a moment ago this girl had been selecting what clothes she liked the best, in happy ignorance, and that a moment later she would be thinking on a revelation that would change her perspective on her whole life. 

Emma stood in the doorway to the sitting room looking at Vera and Tsuru. Brown Eyes felt a pang in her chest at what she now knew, and what she would have to tell her. She didn’t know if it was best to give Emma the message Jill had half written, or to simply say it to her. Tsuru opened his mouth, about to beat her too it, but Vera held out her hand to silence him.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked, folding her arms uncertainly. Vera and Tsuru exchanged a nervous look. Brown Eyes heaved in an uneven breath. 

“Emma, we figured out what Jill meant.” She began. “It’s tough news, you’re going to want to sit down for this.” Emma’s face shifted from confusion to fear. 

“Is John dead?”

“No.” Emma looked relieved, but more confused, at that. She didn’t protest further and went back to her seat at the table. 

Vera and Tsuru sat down a few moments later, more subdued than the girl still in the dark of her situation. Vera continued. “Before we left Majjannen’s correctional centre Jill was writing a message to your father. I interrupted her before she could send it,” Vera paused, glancing over at Tsuru. “Tsuru took a photo of the message before we left, as there wasn’t time to read it. We read that message just now, hoping it might shed some light on the things Jill said to you, on all of this.” Brown Eyes put Tsuru’s phone on the table and slid it towards Emma, “I’m not sure how best to say this, so I’ll let you look at it yourself.” Emma looked at Vera, then Tsuru, then the phone. She reached a shaking hand out to it and pulled it towards her, inspecting the screen. It took her a few moments, but then she looked back up, her brow furrowed. “Look at who it’s addressed to.” Vera clarified. 

Emma took a moment, then her eyebrows lifted and her eyes widened. She hadn’t looked back down at the phone again, she’d already figured it out. The phone dropped out of her hand and onto the table with a clatter. Silence held the room as Emma’s eyes darted from left to right, thinking. 

“I don’t have an uncle in the rebellion, do I?” The girl asked. Vera shook her head. “The rebellion doesn’t want to kidnap me, do they?”

“No.” Vera’s voice was soft. Emma’s hands covered her mouth as her eyes widened in shock, then betrayal, more fierce than it had been before. Her eyes drifted down to the phone at last, to the name the message was to be sent to, the name of Emma’s father. 

It wasn’t John Chavez. 

Emma’s voice was caught between gasps as the girl fought her urge to cry, “John isn’t my father.” It wasn’t a question like the ones before. It was a realisation. Emma could read, she could see the name on the phone. It wasn’t John Chavez, but Matt Chavez. The man they’d thought to be her uncle. 

“Jill said you weren’t kidnapped because you weren’t.” Vera explained, her heart beating loudly in her ears from anger at John. “My guess is that John kidnapped you from Matt when you were young and used you as a bargaining chip to stop the rebellion from making progress. The rebellion didn’t want to hurt you because they weren’t kidnapping you, they were trying to rescue you.” Emma held out her hand to silence Vera. Brown Eyes politely quietened herself, giving the girl space to think. Emma put her head in her hands and sat like that for a minute, then looked back up, her green eyes steely. 

“Where is John now?” She asked. For a moment Vera had no idea, then she remembered what Gortald had said to her. 

“He should be at the Library of Definitive Arts around about now.” Tsuru shot her a questioning look, “Gortald told me they had a meeting there at some point today.” Vera shrugged, explaining herself. Emma got up from her chair and walked briskly past them. 

“I need a moment outside.” She murmured, then, “Vera, what is the code to the gate?” 

“7878. Why?” 

“No reason.” Emma said, grabbing a large blue coat from the coat hanger and pulling it on, leaving the cottage. For the briefest of moments the muted noise of the howling storm broke into the cottage, roaring around the rooms and corridors like a rush of water. Then it dulled once more, it’s cry ceased by the slam of the front door. Vera looked at Tsuru. 

“Does she really think we’re that stupid?” Tsuru asked in mock offence. 

“I’m not sure she’s thinking right now.” Vera responded sympathetically, “Come on, get your coat.” Vera moved swiftly towards the door, grabbing her black puffer jacket and beanie and pulling them on. 

Vera walked out into the blizzard, unfazed by the sudden shift from warmth to freezing cold. Tsuru, however, was. He was pulling on his beige coat, wrapping a black scarf around his neck, when he stepped outside and gasped. 

“Jesus.” He hissed, his teeth already chattering. Vera smirked briefly, then forced her face back into neutral as she pushed through the snow storm after Emma. 

There were no footprints to follow, the snow fall had already covered them. She faintly heard the slam of the cottage door and Tsuru running to catch up with her, eat footstep announced by the compression of heavy snow crunching beneath their shoes. “How long do we have to stay out in this?” Tsuru complained.

“Emma just found out her father’s been lying to her all her life. I think you can manage a chill.” Vera snapped, even though she knew Tsuru was right to protest against the cold. Tsuru grumbled something in response that Vera couldn’t hear, so she didn’t bother responding. 

Brown Eyes made out the gate in front of them and entered the code, exiting the estate. She set off down the road through the forest, Tsuru besides her, when she caught sight of Emma’s silhouette struggling stubbornly through the blizzard. Vera silently broke into a run, her feet crunching over the thick layers of snow, kicking the white powder up with each stride. Tsuru cursed and stumbled after her. Vera slowed to a walk at Emma’s side and the girl looked up in surprise. 

“Vera?” Tsuru caught up and settled in between the two, shuddering in the cold. “Tsuru?” 

“We’re not idiots.” Vera grumbled, “It was obvious you were going after John.” Emma looked down at the floor guiltily. 

“We’re not here to stop you.” Tsuru added. Brown Eyes gave a nod of agreement, 

“No, we’re here to help.” She gestured around them, “You’d get lost in two seconds in this, but I know Bochardess better than my own room and could get us to the Library blindfolded if I had to.” 

“Plus, I’m a badass.” Tsuru cut in. Vera looked down at him disapprovingly. 

“Language, Tsuru.” She scolded him. Vera turned back to Emma, “The point is, we’ll get you to John. It’s up to you what we do after.” Brown Eyes felt dread swirl in her stomach at what might lie ahead, but given the way John had treated Emma, she couldn’t stand in the girls way, and she wasn’t about to let her walk off into a snow storm alone. Emma looked first at Tsuru, then Vera, and smiled weakly but with a fierce sincerity. 

“When did I get such good friends?” She breathed, her nose and cheeks red from the cold, her eyes alight with emotion. Vera startled and let out an embarrassed laugh, averting her eyes. Tsuru cleared his throat awkwardly. Emma’s smile deepened, “You two aren’t great with people, are you?” 

“I’m great with the ladies, and that’s all that counts.” Tsuru retorted. 

“And we’re not ladies?” Emma chimed back just as sharply. Tsuru stuttered defensively but didn’t form an actual response. 

“This way.” Vera instructed, cutting into the conversation. By her judgements they’d reached the end of the forest and were entering into West Bochardess. That’s when Vera’s ears started picking up muffled noises in the distance. “You hear that?” She asked quietly. The howl of the wind and the cold of the snow blocked most of the sensory input around them. Tsuru and Emma went quiet, allowing only their footsteps to sound as they trudged through the white. Tsuru tilted his head in thought, 

“Yeah.” He confirmed. Emma gave her head a shake, then stilled and nodded, 

“I do now.” Emma furrowed her brow, “It sounds like smashing and… shouting.” Vera pursed her lips, 

“That’s exactly what it sounds like. Like fighting.” The noise only grew louder as they got deeper into West Bochardess. Bright red lights contrasted the overwhelming white in the distance, warm and flickering. The orange glow barely reaching them through the blizzard. _Fire._ She realised, _That’s not good._ The three of them collectively jumped when a woman with brittle brown hair and wild eyes ran past them, roaring. She wore dirtied rags and misshaped coats and held a brick in her hand. She hurled the thing towards one of the immense houses, smashing it through a window with a shattering noise. She turned and looked at the three of them, then at their expensive coats and scarves, and spat. 

“Selfish pigs!” She hissed, pumping her fist in the air she began to cheer, “We’ll have your heads! We’ll have your heads!” then ran off into the storm, her voice cackling madly. The three watched after the woman in silence. 

“We need to move faster.” Vera murmured ominously. They hurried on through the snow and wind, as they went more and more people began to swarm around the streets. Some held wooden sticks with flaming cloths attached to the end, others bricks and bottles to be thrown at buildings. Thus far no one had held a gun, to Vera’s relief. She figured they were simply too poor to purchase one. 

Brown Eyes could see the motivation on these peoples faces so plainly, it was precisely the expression she’d worn not too long ago. That of desperation, of righteous fury, of revenge. These people were the scum of Bochardess and were tired of being so. Vera knew better than anyone else that there was no more dangerous a man or woman than those who had nothing left to lose. 

She quickened her pace further. 

By the time they were approaching the Library of Definitive Arts the road was crammed with screaming people, bodies pressed against each other in a crowd ebbing and flowing like the ocean. Vera felt her throat closing in on itself at the sheer density of people. Men, woman and even children shrieked at the top of their lungs, destroying whatever they could get their hands upon, and throwing whatever they could find at the buildings around them. Car’s had been spray painted and decimated, their windows kicked in and their immaculate paint jobs scratched to a mess. 

The Library itself was surrounded by a mob and it was only now that Vera found a word for what was going down. “It’s a revolt.” She whispered to Emma and Tsuru, the three of them now huddled close together, watching anxiously. Besides the woman they’d encountered earlier, no one else had seemed to take issue with their rather well-off looking apparel. Perhaps because many of the rioters were wearing similarly styled clothes. “Or maybe riot is a better word.” Brown Eyes mused. 

“Either way,” Tsuru said testily, “It’s a stupid time to make one.” He nodded up at the sky, at the blizzard still raging. 

“Who cares, we need to get in there,” Emma cut over them, standing on tiptoes to see over the crowd, “get to John.” 

“But why riot now?” Tsuru muttered more to himself than to Emma or Vera, shaking his head in disapproval. Vera’s features settled into a steely glare. 

“That’s why.” She said, gesturing at Emma. “John had Emma hostage. If the rebellion took any action then John would threaten to hurt her.” She only realised the bluntness of her words after. Her anger at John had only grown hotter in the cold of the snow. 

Emma glanced over her shoulder at Vera, her eyes widening in disbelief as if even after all she’d found out she couldn’t quite believe John would use her safety as a form of blackmail. She looked down at the ground, her eyes unfocussed. “It’s no coincidence that the second Emma is rescued by the rebellion a riot commences. They’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” Vera shrugged, “I guess Jill never got a chance to finish that message to Matt Chavez, he probably still thinks you’re in Majjannen.” Emma looked up at Vera. 

“You have to get me inside, to John. Please.” She begged, “I have to talk to him.” Vera looked Emma in the eyes, 

“I promise.” She swore. Emma pursed her lips, furrowed her brow, and gave a determined nod. 

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” She asked. Vera looked around them, at the Library, at the people surrounding it. 

“Same as last time.” She decided, thinking back to when they’d previously broken into the Library. Vera turned to Tsuru, “Tsuru?”

“Oh, Jesus.” He cursed.

“We need a distraction.” Tsuru let out a groan, “ _Tsuru_.”

“Fine.”

“You’re a just an overgrown, moody teenager, you know that?” Emma teased. Tsuru gave her a light jab in the arm. 

“Yeah, I know.” He grumbled, then, as loud as his lungs would allow him, “I’ve got a bomb!” His voice was far louder than Vera could have thought possible, she startled as it jarred through the crowd with immense power. 

“I meant once we’d gotten away from you.” Vera hissed, seizing hold of Emma’s hand and darting as quickly away from Tsuru as possible. “Come on!” She instructed urgently to Emma. 

Tsuru called out again, informing those around him of the bomb he had. People began the panic and run away from him, the panic inspired more panic and soon there was a plenty large enough distraction to give Vera and Emma a window of opportunity. Vera ran as fast as she could, shoving through the crowd, dodging around people where possible and pushing them forcibly out of her way where not, ignoring how awful it felt to be stuck in a swarm of bodies. 

Emma held onto her cold hand tightly, following close behind, their hot breaths steaming in the frosty air. 

They reached the gardens to the right of the Library, now buried under the snow, and crouched behind one of the white covered bushes. Vera peeked out into the crowd and Emma, clambering over Vera, got a look as well. 

“What now?” Emma hissed. Vera scanned the Library and then the crowd. The window they’d used last time was shut, but given enough time she could pick the lock on one. They were simple enough if Vera’s memory served her correctly. 

Her attention was drawn away from the windows and towards a man standing by the barricaded front doors of the Library. He was on a large crate, standing high above the masses of people, his voice booming over their heads. Tsuru’s distraction had broken the people’s fixation on the man and his speech, and in response, the man was trying to regain their attention. 

“People! Do not panic. Victory will be ours if we stand together as one people, as one weapon to topple the tyrannical governing of this city, of this country!” A few people calmed and began to listen, but the majority were still in a frenzy. Vera’s eyes took the man in. He had brown skin and short, curly black hair. Haircut so neatly and looking so shiny that Vera was certain this man didn’t live in the squalor those listening to him did. Yet, somehow, the mob seemed blind to the man’s immaculate outfit and fancy coat, embroidered with gold thread to contrast the dark black fabric. They were too enthralled by his message, or too distracted by the threat of a bomb. 

“Is that…?” Emma trailed off, and it suddenly hit Vera. The striking resemblance between the man and Emma. From the bronze skin to the plain green eyes, to the dark hair. Vera looked at the man, then at Emma, then back to the man.

“It could be.” She admitted, “But there’s no time now. We need to move before Tsuru’s distraction wears off.” Vera didn’t give Emma a chance to respond and set off across the gap between the bushes and the windows of the Library. The snowstorm was already offering her partial cover from the gazes of the rioters, but without Tsuru’s distraction someone would undoubtedly notice them. Vera searched her pockets for something to pick the lock with but came up empty-handed. She glanced over at Emma, who was knelt beside her, and spotted a few pins in the girl’s hair. “Excuse me.” She murmured as she gently pulled a few out. Vera turned to the lock and her heart sunk. 

Her memory hadn’t served her correctly. The locks looked more complex than she’d expected. Vera was almost certain she couldn’t unlock them, but she had to try. 

Her cold hands fumbled with the pins as she attempted to unlock the window, her right hand incredibly slow and painful to move. On a warmer day, Vera just might have been able to manage it, if Vera’s right arm wasn’t sprained the chances would have been better still, but her fingers were clumsy and slow, and the lock was too hard. 

“Do you want me to-?”

“I’ve got it.” Vera insisted stubbornly. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Vera narrowed her eyes in focus, more determined to get the window open now her ability to do so had been questioned. Emma waited a few moments, then let out a grunt of frustration and disappeared into the storm. Vera didn’t notice until a few moments later when a brick shattered through the window. Vera startled. 

“There.” Emma breathed triumphantly, gingerly stepping through the broken window. Vera glanced over at the mob and, when she was sure they hadn’t heard the noise over all the other chaos, looked dumbly through the window.

“That’ll work too, I guess.” She admitted, then got up and followed in after Emma, haphazardly chucking the bobby pins over her shoulder as she did. 

The howling wind muted as she stepped into the Library of Definitive Arts. It felt like a year ago since she was last here, even though it had only been a week or so. In spite of seeing the interior once before, she couldn’t help a brief moment of awe at how gorgeous the architecture was. 

The walls arched above their heads like colossal waves bearing down upon them, with small carved out shelves for old books to sit neatly upon. In the centre of the immense space was a large circle of reflective curtains. In the centre of that circle, Vera could make out two men, one strapped down to a dark oak chair, the other standing over him, holding what Vera thought was a baton. 

Vera’s heart sunk, though she couldn’t make them out through the curtains she was fairly certain that it was Gortald and John. The last time they’d come here bright sunlight had illuminated the place with glorious yellow light, and coloured windows in the domed roof had added shades of green and pink to the picture. 

Now, in the storm, only a muted grey and blue found their way into the interior, speckling the walls and the floor with a depressed, cold hue. Vera glanced to her left, at the impressive front door of the Library, and saw it was barricaded with chairs and crates and wooden planks. She figured that Gortald and John must have hunkered down when the riot had begun, both of them screamed of wealth and would no doubt be torn to shreds by the angry mob outside. 

Emma was ahead of Vera, cautiously walking towards the curtains in the centre of the large area. As they approached the man holding the baton struck the one strapped to the chair. Emma and Vera both froze at the sudden and sharp crack that echoed around the building. 

“Just sign it you insolent brat.” John’s voice hissed with malice. Emma broke into a run, reaching out a hand and throwing one of the long curtains aside, stepping into the central circle. 

“John!” She cried, her fists clenched at her sides. Vera followed at a more subdued pace, passing through the curtains to stand alongside Emma, her cold brown eyes surveying the scene in front of her. The central area was better lit than the rest, and Vera could easily make out John and, tied down to the chair, and bloodied and bruised Gortald. His head lulled to the side, his eyes half closed and dazed. Blood trickled from cuts on his head, arms and torso. His arms were free, but hanging limply at his sides. His upper body had been stripped down to nothing. The man was shivering tiredly, his face paler than usual, and Vera guessed he’d been kept here like this for a few hours, minimum. 

John was standing over Gortald, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, and the purple and yellow patterns of his luxurious waistcoat and tie compromised with red splatters. 

By John was a wooden table, on which was a sheet of paper, a pen, a phone and a few small but sharp looking knifes. Most importantly, however, was a pistol Vera saw sitting threateningly next to the other objects. John looked up from Gortald to Emma, his rage evaporating as his eyes caught sight of his distraught daughter. Or, rather, the distraught girl he’d stolen from her family. 

“Emma.” His voice faltered, for once in his life unsure. “What are you doing here?” Emma was quiet. Vera looked questioningly down at Emma, the girl’s face was pained, as if she didn’t know what to do. John took his opportunity, settling his face into an angry look, “You shouldn’t be here, Emma. I’m disappointed in you.” He clenched his jaw, giving Emma his full attention now, “I told you to stay in the cottage, I forbade you leaving, and yet you continued to go galavanting with this _bolly_ multiple times.” He gestured at Vera. Brown Eyes flinched at the term, her mouth going dry. Something shifted in Emma’s face, she went from unassuming and timid to rage. He eyes snapped up at John and Vera saw a flash of confusion on John’s face. Brown Eyes wondered whether Emma had looked at him with such open scorn before. 

“And how is it, exactly, that you know I left the cottage? You weren’t there.” John tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Oh, that’s right.” Emma laughed ruefully, placing her hand on the cross hanging from her neck, “You’ve been tracking me all this time. Your so-called forgiveness was the removal of my privacy.” John bared his teeth. 

“Tsuru.” He muttered under his breath, “He told you. I’ll skin him alive.” Emma seemed to be finding her footing now and pushed her advantage. 

“You’ll do no such thing.” She retorted sharply. John scoffed,

“Oh, Emma, they’re your bodyguards, not your friends. If you were really that desperate for companionship you should have just said, I’d have got you a teddy bear.” He wafted his hand dismissively, “Now go home, we’ll discuss this behaviour later.” Emma was about to respond, but John hadn’t finished, “That violin of yours could make a nice warm fire.” He threatened. Emma’s confidence shattered, her mouth hung open, then closed. Vera saw tears threatening to overtake the girl. John knew precisely where to hit to get the maximum effect in an argument. Every conversation with John had gone like this. John would look at Vera or Emma and see their weaknesses, he’d pinpoint where to strike and then would follow through with brutal blows. Emma had spent the majority of her life alone, locked away, and John was making light of that pain, threatening to remove the few things she had had to entertain herself with. Vera clenched her jaw. 

“She’s not going anywhere, John.” She cut in, her voice strong. Emma came here to talk with John, but if Emma came here to confront him, then so did Vera. They would do it together if they had to. John startled and looked at her, wide-eyed. 

“I see, so Emma’s friendship is returned.” He paused, examining Vera. Brown Eyes braced herself for the oncoming assault. “What is it you see in her, Emma?” He asked, “Why would you be friends with her?” He spat the word as if Vera were muck on his shoes. 

“Because she actually cares about me.” Emma snapped back. John looked at her then, really looked at her. Vera could swear there was hurt in his eyes, but if there was, it was gone as quickly as it arrived, swallowed in the hazel pools of his irises. John’s gaze grew severe. 

“I care about you far more than this _bolly_ ever could.” Vera felt her veins going cold, her heart speeding. She wanted nothing more than to punch this man in his too-perfect teeth. “Do you know what that is, Emma? A _bolly_?” Emma held his gaze. 

“I do.” John startled, but continued, not skipping a beat. 

“But do you really? You may have heard the term ‘lady of the night’, but have you ever really considered what that means? It’s a filthy job, Emma, being a _bolly_ , I don’t want to burden you with the details, but seeing as you’re so keen on befriending one, I suppose I’ll have to.” 

“Don’t-” Vera growled, but John wasn’t to be stopped. 

“They wait on street corners or in brothels in skimpy little outfits. What did you wear, Vera? A crop top and skirt? Or perhaps just your underwear?” John narrowed his eyes teasingly, “Nothing at all?” 

“Stop this.” Emma took a step towards him. John reached for the pistol on the table and pointed it at Gortald calmly. The man stirred, but he seemed too tired to react. 

“Stay back, Emma.” John warned. Emma clenched her jaw in frustration, but eventually moved backwards. “Vera, what was it? You’ll tell me or I’ll shoot him.” Vera bared her teeth. “Come now, don’t be so prude, what was it?” Vera felt her mind falling into her memories, felt hands crawling up and down her arms and legs. 

“Crop top and skirt.” She murmured, the words like wriggling insects on her tongue. John laughed, 

“Can you imagine?” He chuckled, gesturing at her. “What colour, Vera?” Brown Eyes was silent, she stared hatefully at John, struggling to remain composed. “ _What colour_?” 

“Pink.” Vera spat the word as if it would make her sick. John smiled wide, 

“I see.” He looked as if he’d just solved a puzzle, and the satisfaction was unbearable. He turned back to Emma, “So this friend of yours, she’d stand on street corners or in brothels in a pink crop top and tiny little skirt, and she’d lure men to her. She’d convince them to waste their money on a filthy skank like herself, and then she’d have sex with them.” John turned to Vera, “I imagine you did all sorts of things for them.” John regarded Vera for a moment, “Tell us the worst thing you had to do.” He instructed her. Vera felt her whole body seize up. 

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t describe, right here in front of Emma and Gortald and John, the things she’d had to do. Just hearing John outline what her job had been was enough to make her skin crawl and her mind go to static. She wasn’t strong enough for any more.

It was at this moment that Gortald seemed to regain his strength. He sat up in his chair and abruptly leant his head towards the gun John was pointing at him. John startled at the movement but, thank _Uurgoe,_ didn’t pull the trigger. 

“Enough of your games. Shoot me or put the gun down.” Gortald hissed, his teeth red with his own blood. Vera was too busy trying to calm her breathing to feel either pity or gratitude towards him. She felt herself slipping into a panic, horrid memories of dark, smoke-filled rooms and rough hands grabbing at her thighs refused to leave her alone. She couldn’t get the image of her uniform out of her head, either. The horrid bright pink colour, the tightness of the material as it pulled around her torso, how awful it felt to be paraded around in it like an object. 

Then she felt a hand, soft, press to the small of her back, and a voice whisper to her. 

“Hold it together.” Vera closed her eyes and took in a few calming breaths, swallowing to relieve her dry throat, then gave a nod, looking up at John. Emma removed her hand from Vera’s back, and Vera wished she hadn’t, she felt less stable without it. 

“I wouldn’t have to shoot you if you’d just sign the damn papers.” John barked at Gortald. Gortald smiled ruefully up at him. 

“Correction; you shall not shoot me because you need those damn papers signed.” He glanced over his bloodied shoulder at Vera. “John’s attempting a coup.” He laughed bitterly. John looked up at Emma, his expression calculating as if he’d seen a new path he hadn’t considered before. 

“Emma.” He called for her attention, his voice welcoming. Emma fell for it, looking at him with an openness to her face that Vera guessed was more habit than choice. “Let me level with you, I can explain everything if you’d just listen to me.” Emma seemed intrigued. _Don’t be so naive._ Vera begged inwardly. 

“I’m listening.” Emma murmured. _No. Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile._ John smiled, 

“That’s my girl.” He said affectionately, then, “Bochardess is a brilliant city. It brings in more wealth and prosperity than you could ever imagine, it’s efficiency in turning a profit is unmatched with anywhere else in the world. It is this profit that has kept the rest of the country afloat in these tough times.” John gave his gun a wave at Gortald, “This man’s father, Theodoric Gortald, he understood that. He made this city what it is, he made this country a name to be remembered. He did it by being merciless and strong, by letting the tough get tougher, and leaving the weak behind.” John dipped his head in respect, “It was a difficult decision to make, but Theodoric Gortald saw that letting the weak suffer so the strong could survive was better than letting us all perish together. He was wise.” John expression changed to disgust, “This boy here, Olivech Gortald. He is nothing like his father.” 

“And proudly so.” Gortald remarked, leaning back in his chair slowly, his movements pained. His voice sounded more conflicted than Vera imagined he’d intended.

“You’re lucky my daughter’s here,” John hissed, leaning down to be level with Gortald, placing one hand either side of him, “Or I’d have to punish that retort.” Gortald glared back at him but remained silent. John straightened back up, loosening his tie with red-tinged hands. “As I was saying, Theodoric Gortald was wise. He recognised the stench of weakness even in his own son and left this, should his son need to be put in check.” John placed the baton on the table and whisked the piece of paper up in its place, presenting it in Emma and Vera’s direction. “A form for Olivech Gortald’s abdication.” John looked frustratedly down at Gortald, “The brat just has to sign it.” John turned desperately back to Emma, “Can’t you see? If he stays in power this whole country is doomed. I’m doing this because I want to save this country, I want to save its power, its economy, its wealth. I want to make it successful and bring it fully into the modern era. To hold it’s crumbling pieces together.” John glowered at Gortald, “He wants to throw away all the progress we’ve made.” Gortald looked back at Vera in amusement. 

“Charming, isn’t he?” Rage snapped over John’s face and he slammed the paper back onto the table, grabbed the baton and struck it against Gortald’s stomach, gritting his teeth. Gortald let out a cry of pain and bent over. 

“Stop!” Emma begged. John looked up at her in concern, as if he’d forgotten she’d been there. He regarded Gortald then put the baton back on the table. Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you ever consider that success isn’t measured in _dolch_ or power?” John laughed at that, shaking his head. 

“Oh, Emma. Still so foolish. Sometimes I forget you’re only nineteen. The world doesn’t work that way.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because men are greedy.” John said. Gortald let out a weak laugh,

“You’re a terrible liar, John.” He chuckled. “If you cared about this country you’d have got me to abdicate long ago. You held off until now because, with my recent attempts at reform, my approval rating from the council is lower than it has ever been for any Gortald. Right now is your best chance to not just get me to resign, but to take ahold of the throne I’ll leave empty.” Gortald looked up at John who stood, examining him silently. “You’ve been waiting until you could get to the strongest position possible before trying to take over the society.” Gortald smirked, “You really think I didn’t see this coming, John? You think I didn’t know what you were going to pull?” John’s face puzzled, then he looked up, at Vera. Then his gaze shifted, settling on Emma. Gortald smiled, “You’re not the only one who can see people’s weaknesses. I’m just far more subtle at getting to them.” John looked down at Gortald and stood like that for a minute, his face unreadable. 

“Vera, come over here.” John said coldly, his voice threateningly quiet. Brown Eyes could see he was at the end of his wits and her stomach clenched. She glanced down at Emma, then walked slowly over to him. She stopped in front of him, waiting. John slowly moved his gun from Gortald to Vera, pressing the barrel against her forehead. Vera’s breath hitched. 

“No!” Emma protested, her voice desperate. 

“Gortald, sign the form.” Was all John said. Vera stared calmly at John, trying to remain composed. _Breathe._ A voice told her. Vera fought the urge to close her eyes, to think about how any second everything could end, in a time faster than she could blink her life could be gone. 

Gortald hesitated, then cursed under his breath and leant forward in his chair. John grabbed the paper and pen with his free hand and passed them to Gortald, who quickly scribbled his signature on them once, twice, then three times, his hand shaking. It occurred to Vera that John had left Gortald’s hands unbound so he could do just that. Sign. 

“It’s done.” Gortald said dejectedly. John smirked and snatched the paper from him. He placed it flat on the table and grabbed his phone, snapping a shot of the document. 

“And just like that,” He murmured, his eyes wild with something as he looked down at his phone. Power, victory, Vera didn’t know. “I _am_ the society.” Vera took her chance, her muscles moving from memory, from the brief training Gortald had given her. 

Her hands shot up, one hitting John’s hand whilst the other grabbed the gun. Pain sparked in her right arm but hadn’t let that stop her yet. The weapon easily slid from John’s hands and into hers. She turned the gun around to point it at John. 

“And just like that,” Vera breathed, relief and adrenaline surging within her, “I have the gun.” John looked at the weapon, then at Vera. 

“Oh, please, you don’t fool me, child. Your hands are shaking.” Brown Eyes kept the gun trained on him. She wasn’t falling for his words anymore. 

“I’ve shot people before.” Was her only response, her words confident. The shake was from her injuries, not moral struggle. John seemed uncertain, then he held the phone up, his thumb held gently over one of its buttons. 

“I’ll send an image of that document to everyone in the society if you don’t lower that gun in three…” John began counting. Vera glanced over her shoulder, at Emma. As much as John had mistreated, lied to and betrayed Emma, Vera couldn’t shoot him right in front of her. Those kinds of images never leave you. Vera couldn’t allow one to get stuck in the backs Emma’s eyes like a disease. The girl had already been through enough. 

John didn’t get to the number ‘two’ before Vera had made her decision and lowered the gun, taking a step back from the man. “Good girl.” John cooed, “Now, you’re going to let me leave, unharmed, and that will be that.” John held his free hand out in Emma’s direction, “Emma, come.” Vera turned to look at Emma. The girl looked steely-eyed at John. She didn’t move. “ _Emma._ ” John hissed. Emma began walking towards him and John smiled triumphantly. 

“See, Vera, you may be her _friend,_ ” He spat the word out, “But I am her father. You will always come second.” Vera sneered and let out a sharp breath at him, but she didn’t feel worried. Emma’s demeanour had shifted, her march was confident and measured. Emma wasn’t approaching John, a snake was. The shorter girl stopped at Vera’s side. 

“One.” Emma began, her voice echoing throughout the chamber. “She is not just my friend.” Emma laced her hand with Vera’s, giving it a squeeze. Vera felt power surge through her from the contact. John’s face turned to disgusted confusion. “Two. You. Are not. My father.” John’s face stilled, his whole body frozen. Then his eyebrows lifted, his eyes widened, and his pale skin turned paler still. 

“I…” He breathed as if his own words had been stolen from him. “Emma…” 

“You stole me from my family.” Emma’s voice was breaking now, and Vera could hear the tell-tale signs of crying in her words. She gave Emma’s hand a squeeze back and hoped it gave the other girl as much strength as it did her. “You kept me locked away and used me as blackmail against my birth father. You left me trapped and alone for thirteen years, and when I tried to free myself from my cage you put a tracking device on me.” Emma took a tight hold of the golden cross necklace, “And _still_ you lie to me. You claim to do this for the sake of Bochardess, when all I see is a greedy man clawing at power and wealth. You beat a man to get what you wanted. You held a gun to the most important person in my life to get what you wanted. You stole, imprisoned and lied to me to get what you wanted.” The tremble in Emma’s voice had changed from sadness to fury. “And then, after all that, you expect me to follow you like the good daughter I am, like the servant you’ve made of me.” 

Emma’s hand moved like lighting, snatching the gun from Vera’s, and then raising it to her own head. She let go of Vera’s hand and took a step away from her. 

“No!” John cried. Words had left Vera entirely, she stood frozen. 

Vera’s eyes searched Emma’s face in panic. _Please, no._ She begged, _Oh_ Uurgoe, _no, don’t do it._ “I know you’re weakness, John.” Emma smiled wickedly, and Vera realised with a shock that she’d never looked more like John than she did in that moment. Baring her teeth, a rueful grin spread across her features, the calm look of control. “It’s me.” Emma pressed her finger against the trigger and John limply reached his hand out to her, the phone, and his plight for leadership, seemingly forgotten. “You’re going to answer a question for me, John, and for once in your life you’re going to tell me the truth. Because if you don’t.” Emma gave the gun a wave, then pressed it back to her own head, her point made. John gave a nod, swallowing nervously. 

“Of course, anything.” 

“Did you kill her?” Emma breathed as if the question was lodged in her throat. Vera’s brow furrowed in confusion. _Who?_ Whoever Emma was asking about John clearly understood, his face fell and his mouth hung open. He was silent. “Ever since I realised you weren’t my father, that you’d simply stolen me from Matt, one thing kept bothering me.” Emma tighten her grip on the gun, Vera felt as if she was standing on a platform of glass, the ground miles and miles beneath her, hungry and waiting for her to fall. As if any movement might shatter the floor beneath her feet and she’d join a cascade of glass in a free fall towards certain death. “You always told me that my mother was killed, taken from us by our enemies.” Emma laughed once, but it sounded more like a sob. “If my mother was Matt’s wife, if my mother was part of the rebellion, that means my mother’s enemy _was you._ ” 

Emma’s words hung in the air. Vera was helpless, she could only watch on as Emma struggled with all of this hurt, struggle with all of this betrayal. _There’s nothing I can do._ Vera realised with a pang of misery, _I’m useless._ Brown Eyes turned hopefully to John. She wished on the sun that Emma was wrong, that John hadn’t done what Emma was asking him. “John, if you lie to me I will know. So tell me.” Emma took in a sharp breath, “Did you kill Mary?” 

Brown Eyes felt as if she was frozen as she watched John. His eyes brimmed with tears, his face red. He opened his mouth but no words came out, just a strangled noise of guilt. “Did you kill my mother?” Emma repeated, her voice rising to a yell. John didn’t speak. He looked around helplessly, his eyes darting back and fourth, thinking for a way out. “Three.” Emma’s voice rang clear. John’s eyes snapped back onto her. Emma narrowed her eyes, Vera held her breath, unbelieving of the situation. “Two.” John shook his head, his jaw clenched. _Say something._ Vera begged in her head. “One…” There was silence for a beat, then John broke it with his hoarse voice, a fraction of a second before Emma reached zero. 

“Yes.” Vera felt stunned, the glass exploded into shards and she tumbled through them, down and down and down. Her body sparked with the feeling of falling. She turned to Emma, to the gun in the girl’s hand, every muscle in her body, pulled taut. _Don’t do it._ Emma surveyed John, considering his answer. Her face was flushed red, her eyes wet with tears. She held her position for an agonising second, considering her options, then, at last, lowered her gun. Vera felt a jolt of relief and a gasp escaped her, her eyes shutting tight as she tried to remain standing. She took breath after relieved breath, then opened her eyes again, back on Emma.

Emma raised the gun, this time to point it at John. John raised his hands defensively, the look of shock and sorrow on his face almost made Vera feel sympathy for him. 

Emma’s arm was shaking, her finger on the trigger. The shorter girl squeezed her eyes shut and let out a low groan of agony that turned into a sob. Her hand slowly lowered. 

“I can’t.” She sobbed, then turned to Vera, burying her face in her shoulder. 

“Emma, I’m so sorry, I never meant for-” John began. Emma exploded at his words.

“I don’t care, John!” She cut him off with a desperate scream, the howl of anguish juddering around the gargantuan space. Vera placed her hand over the gun in Emma’s, trying to pry it from her, but Emma’s grip was too tight. John was clutching the phone in his hand, as if convincing himself that he’d made the right choice. 

“One day you’ll forgive me. One day you’ll see.” John promised, “When I’m leader I’ll find you and we’ll work this out.” 

“Give up. She’s gone.” Vera growled threateningly at him, a hiss edging her words. John’s face looked at her, then he bared his teeth in fury. 

“I’ll make her love me if I have too. I’ll find you instead, and for every day Emma isn’t by my side I’ll remove a finger, or a toe, or if I’m feeling particularly bored a whole limb.” He spat. Emma looked behind herself briefly, 

“I hate you with all my heart.” She told him. John was silent, his brief rage vanished. Then, his face awash with grief, he turned to leave. He had won but looked defeated. 

“I’ll find you, Emma.” He promised over his shoulder. 

“Vera, he’ll tear this city apart.” Gortald murmured in a warning voice. Vera looked at Gortald and then after John and, with a sinking feeling of dread, knew what she had to do. John paused a few paces away from them, and turned around to regard her, assessing whether or not he should worry. Vera held his gaze silently. They both knew if Emma weren’t here there would be no question. Vera would shoot him on sight.

But Emma _was_ here.

If John got away he’d use the document to take over the society. He’d pretend like he still had Emma locked away somewhere, and would use her to quell the rebellion. And even if he didn’t, he’d find some other way to come out on top, there was no doubt about that in Vera’s mind. He’d take control and mould the city into precisely what he’d promised, a place of wealth and power and success for the strong, and misery for the weak. 

Vera wasn’t sure she could bring herself to kill John with Emma there, but she had to try. For every _bolly_ trapped in an endless cycle of bills and work and drugs. For every child and teenager imprisoned in correctional centres like Majjannen’s. 

For every innocent person like Emma who’s life had been destroyed in the crossfire.

She couldn’t be sure whether Gortald would bring the reforms he promised, but she knew John never would. Gortald was the best hope for the city, the best hope for equality, but that hope would die the second of John’s escape. 

“I’m sorry, Emma.” Vera whispered to the smaller girl, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I can’t let him leave.” She went to take the gun off of Emma, but the shorter girl refused. “Emma, please.” Vera couldn’t help it, her voice was plagued by her own tremble. She felt tears building in her eyes, blurring her vision. She didn’t want to kill the person who had been Emma’s father for so long, but she had no choice. Despite all of this, she knew, deep down, she wouldn’t be able to go through with it if Emma resisted even the smallest amount. Then Emma looked up at Vera, her eyes red from crying, her mouth turned down sadly. 

“He took everything from me.” Emma gasped out. “And he’ll take everything from so many more people if he gets his way.” Vera nodded numbly. Emma sniffed sadly, then fastened a hand around the back of Vera’s head and pulled her down towards her, pressing her lips against hers. Brown Eyes felt surprise ripple through her, then returned the kiss. It was short and soft, and filled with misery. Emma pulled away, her hand falling down to Vera’s shoulder, clutching at it in a tight grip, so tight it hurt. The shorter girl buried her head in Vera’s shoulder, her body racked with sobs. 

Horror began to creep in on Vera, but she felt too slow to stop it.

With a wail of grief that eclipsed any cry Vera had heard before, Emma pointed the gun behind herself, in John’s general direction, and shot. 

The first bullet missed John, who jumped in shock, but Emma hadn’t finished. She shot once, then twice, then three times, and then until the gun clicked empty. Loud explosions ricocheted around the space, joining the cold light in its journey about the arching walls in a brilliant display of sparks and collisions like fireworks. Emma’s nails dug into Vera’s shoulder so tightly that Brown Eyes was certain she’d drawn blood, but she didn’t feel the pain. She was too shocked at the sight in front of her. 

John let out a gasp and Vera saw blood on his white, perfect teeth. 

The man sunk slowly to his knees, his eyes fixed, horrified, on Emma. He spluttered again, multiple red patches forming on his waistcoat and shirt, joining the earlier red patches. Then he fell onto his side, the phone dropping from his hand as he bled out on the wooden floor of the Library, gasping like a fish out of water until eventually there was silence. 

Emma was shaking violently and it took Vera a second to get over her shock and hold the girl, pulling the now empty gun from her hand and tossing it to the side. She wrapped her arms around Emma, running one hand through her dark hair. 

“Shhh. Shhh.” Vera said softly into her ear, repeating it over and over again. Her mother had once done the same for Vera when she’d been scared, the noise had reminded Vera of the ocean, and had brought her calmness. It felt pitifully weak for the situation, but it was all Vera had to offer. And whatever Vera had, she’d give to Emma. 

Emma’s cries began to go silent, but then abruptly rose back up again, shifting from quiet whimpers to loud and desperate wailings. It was as if every few seconds Emma would remember anew just what she’d done, and the grief would hit her all over again. Vera held Emma as tightly as she could without hurting her, bending over so she could whisper comfort in her ear. Emma felt so fragile and weak in her arms, as if she was made of brittle glass. Vera was terrified she’d shatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos/comment if you're enjoying!


	23. Chapter 22

** Chapter 22 **

Brown Eyes was a part of Vera that she loathed, a shard of her soul she could not shed. It represented what she nearly became and what she, in some regards, did become. A heartless, cruel creature that lusted for power and _sunshine,_ and would do whatever it took to obtain them. A cutting silhouette that made the cold district feel warm in comparison. 

But Brown Eyes was something else as well. An escape, a symbol of freedom and triumph. Brown Eyes was the persona Vera had sculpted from the dirt South Bochardess had made of her. A mother she could retreat behind when her will was broken. She’d taken what they’d given her and made a person who could give it right back. 

Vera hadn’t called upon Brown Eyes in a long time; she was fearful of the hold the woman had over her, the way her power gripped her bones and refused to let go. But now, in the cold light of the blizzard-surrounded library, it was time to become Brown Eyes once more. 

“What do we do, Gortald?” Vera had asked, a minute earlier, panic rising in her voice. Gortald stood stiffly from the chair, reaching to pick up his bloodied shirt and waistcoat from the floor. He pulled them on with a grim expression. “Gortald?” She repeated. Emma had sunk to her knees, hugging herself in absolute silence. Her blank eyes were fixed in the opposite direction from her father’s corpse, her frame shaking. 

Vera had wanted to hold her until the sun set and rose and set again, but she’d seen rioters through the windows, curiosity piqued at the gunshots they’d heard. It was only a matter of time before they found the window broken open, before a particularly brave soul entered first and saw what lay within and called to his companions to join. They’d see Gortald, unkempt but unmistakably stinking of wealth, and like blood to sharks it would lead them into a frenzy. There was no time to comfort Emma the due amount or else there would be no Emma to comfort at all. 

Still, despite the pressing time constraints Vera couldn’t help furiously grasping one of the many reflective curtains in the room and tearing it off, laying the material over the dead body of John to shield it from Emma’s view. Nothing could be done for the blood, though, sharp against the white tiled floor. 

“We need to get out.” Gortald murmured, collecting himself. Vera sneered, letting out a sharp breath. 

“They get one look at you and they’ll tear you apart.” She hissed. Gortald cast his grey eyes around the room, his breath ragged and short, his brow furrowed against the pain he must be in. He gave his head a shake, swallowed, and narrowed his eyes desperately. 

“I don’t know what to do.” He breathed. _What a mess._ Vera clenched her jaw, setting her own mind to work. It was then that she’d realised what was required of her and made a plan. 

Now, Vera stood looking at the front doors of the Library of Definitive Arts. One of the double doors was buried behind chairs and tables, barricaded shut. The other was now clear, the chairs and tables thrown to the side.

“Stay with Emma, make sure she’s okay. Get her as ready as she can manage.” Vera instructed Gortald. The man gave a solemn nod but said nothing; it probably pained him to speak. He held her gaze for a few awful seconds. 

“When we first met, you were running.” 

“I was.” 

“What’s changed?” Gortald asked. Vera didn’t dignify the question with an answer. She reached down to her right arm, removing the bandages and letting them fall to the floor before pulling the black sleeve of her turtle neck over the bruised skin. A sprained arm was the least of her troubles. She fastened her hands over the hem of her black beanie, forcing the fingers on her right hand to move, pushing the pain to the back of her mind, and began to unfold it. For a moment her world was black as she unfolded the material and pulled the beanie down over her face, shifting it into a mask. Then the eye holes found their home and Vera’s vision was clear once more, but in those few moments of darkness it had shifted into Brown Eyes’ vision. 

Gortald left her side, walking back to where Emma was sitting, head in her hands. Brown Eyes’ gripped the handle of the impressive oak door and pushed it open. 

“Even now they hide in their eccentric buildings. They care more for their God than they do for you!” The crowd erupted in agreement at the man’s voice, raised above the wail of the blizzard. The mob stretched out in front of Vera, starting on the steps of the building and reaching down into the street and the alley’s surrounding it. Between the buildings and cars they screamed their outrage, a storm of indignation to join that of the snow. 

The crowd was thickest by the Library, so thick Vera couldn’t see a path through and was entirely trapped against the now closed door behind her with only a small semi circle of space to move. The further from the Library the sparser the crowd became and the further Vera looked out the more the riot was obscured by the white of the snow storm. Those not listening to the speaker where busy breaking and hitting and raging at all that could be broken or hit or raged upon. “We will take it no longer! We will wait all day if we have to, all week if necessary, until we can get our hands upon them and let them feel our wrath! We will wait-” The inspiring voice trailed off awkwardly. The owner, the man Vera had seen earlier, was standing on a crate to her right, risen above the crowd like a messiah. Dressed like one, too. He looked down at her now, a tall female dressed in all black, fists clenched, the only hint of a human her cold brown eyes, and even that was a stretch. 

“Matt Chavez?” She asked. The crowd fell silent, eyes peering out at her. Some were confused; she wasn’t the round, wealthy men they had been expecting to appear from the building. 

Others were just as perplexed, but equally fearful. They were the ones wise enough to know just who she was. Experienced enough to recognise the iconic tall figure in black. _I am Brown Eyes once more._ Vera felt drunk sitting a top her throne again, the terror of those below fuelling a cruel grin that couldn’t be seen through the black mask, but was known to be there all the same. “I have someone who wants to speak to you.” She offered. The man atop the crate was silent, mouth agape. Vera was hoping he’d agree quickly, and hurry inside before anything unpleasant broke out, but it seemed Matt Chavez intended on taking his time. _So be it._

Vera cracked her neck and loosened her shoulders, preparing for a fight. The crowd might have been initially shocked into submission in seeing Brown Eyes again after so long, but given enough time and enough courage they’d start to move towards her, and then no Brown Eyes, no matter how strong and intimidating, would be able to prevent herself from being torn limb from limb. _A mob is a mob, even to a nightmare._

If Vera wanted a chance of getting Matt inside, and surviving herself, she’d need to gain control of the crowd. Whilst as one unit they would certainly overcome her, if she could turn their minds into individuals none would be foolish enough to be the first to take the challenge. The unit would never set into motion, for it would no longer be a unit. “Who’s first?” She asked, drawing her eyes over the crowd, squaring her shoulders. She read the faces of those closest at lightning speed. A man, too timid, a woman, too old, a boy, too young, then, there, a look of anger so rabid it would be only moments before she would charge. Vera had to make the fight on her own terms to hold her control so she faced herself towards the woman, long haired and lithe, and gave her a nod.

“You don’t scare me.” The woman hissed, baring her teeth like a wolf, snarling threateningly. 

“No? Have you heard the name Brown Eyes?” Brown Eyes taunted. A ripple of shock went through the crowd, those who had not recognised her looks recognised the name. She was myth, she was a beast under the bed, a tale to scare children. 

“You’re not Brown Eyes.” The girl spat with contempt. Brown Eyes smirked beneath her mask.

“Let’s find out.” It was all the brown haired woman needed. She lurched forward from the crowd with a battle cry and struck Vera across the face with a loud crack. A cheer erupted from the mob. Vera was taken by surprise, her speed was not what it usually was, her body tired from sleepless nights and her previous brutal altercation. _Not good._ If Vera didn’t take this woman out soon another would join the fray, and then another, each spurred on by the one proceeding, building confidence as they gained in numbers. A domino effect of punches, screams and kicks. 

Vera led with her left, crushing her fist against the woman’s stomach before following with a right hook to the face. Brown Eyes let out a cry of pain from the impact, her right arm alight with agony, but she didn’t have the luxury of slowing. Out of the corner of her eye Vera could already see a man making his way towards them. Finishing the brawl as soon as she could, Vera grabbed the back of the woman’s head and smashed it against the wall of the library. The woman screamed and fell backwards into the now silent crowd, caught and carried away to safety. 

Brown Eyes didn’t have a second to breathe; the man was already on her. He kicked at her stomach and Vera barely had time to dodge to the side. She reached out and grasped a hold of his out stretched leg, pulling him off balance. Taking her chance, Vera thrust him against the closed oak door. She braced him there and hit his face with her left hand before kneeing him between the legs. Muscles moving on instinct she let the man fall to the floor and whipped around to face the next challenger. She continued like this for as long as she could, dispatching one person and then the next with increasing effort. It was as if chains were tied around her limbs, muting their speed and ferocity, and with each new opponent an extra set of constraints were added, dragging heavier and heavier around her legs. Each punch, each kick, each dodge was a concentrated effort and she knew, eventually, her concentration would break. If her concentration broke, her body would follow.

She shoved a bloodied boy back into the crowd and prepared herself for the next one. To her shock she found not one but three faces glowering at her. Vera’s heart sank when she realised that, even though she’d been winning so far, this was when she’d start loosing.

The first two lunged forward so fast Brown Eyes didn’t have time to take them in. They each grabbed an arm and held her in place, their grips tight. Her right arm was twisted at such an angle that she worried it would actually break this time. The third person set to work, hitting up and down her sides, fists blurring over her body. Brown Eyes let out a cry before being struck across the face. Vera tasted the iron of blood in her mouth. 

The onslaught continued until Vera’s mind was buzzing with pain and she found herself numbly retreating within her own mind, her head lulling limply forward. 

The hands seizing her arms let go and Vera found there was no strength left in her legs to hold her up, so they crumpled beneath her like felled trees. She dropped to the floor, onto her side, and was followed by the swift kicks of the three who’d overpowered her. 

Her pained voice was jarred by the hits impacting on her back, on her stomach, on her arms. Vera curled into the foetal position, hands over the back of her head, wishing the assault would end as the yells of the crowd rose around in glee. _You’re not Brown Eyes anymore._ A voice taunted her, _You’ve grown soft._ Vera gritted her teeth, sobs of agony rising in her throat, blood turning her teeth red and soaking through the black material of her mask onto the snow her face was pressed into. _I can’t do it._ She wailed in her head, her mind racing with fear and hatred and misery. After all that had happened, after all she’d done, she was too tired to finish it. Too exhausted and broken and bloodied.

There was a pause in the attack, and in that moment Vera’s ears took in the surrounding sounds, her ears straining against the pain. She heard the rush of the blizzard, the shrieks of the onlookers and the silence of the sky. The silence of the sun above, blind to the altercations occurring below the clouds. 

Brown Eyes wondered for the briefest of moments if Tsuru was hidden in some alley, or perched elusively on a windowsill above the chaotic streets, watching the trouble unfold. She wondered if he’d seen her step out into the mob, wondered if he’d laughed at her miscalculated move or cursed at her stupidity. Maybe he was on his way to intervene, but what could he do? He was one man against many. _I’m just one against many._ And then, as swift as the break in pain had been, it ended. More fists, more feet, more yells and spit and bared teeth. Vera felt her consciousness slipping from her as she bled in the snow, battered and bruised. 

Emma and Gortald would wait, and wait, and wait, and no one would walk back through those doors. No Vera would appear with Matt at her side, no resolution would be found. Then, with a dazed start, Vera realised that was a lie. Someone would walk back through those doors. In fact, many someones would. Many someones with many fists and a torrent of anger. Emma and Gortald wouldn’t stand a chance. Emma wouldn’t stand a chance. 

_No._ Vera raged inside, _No._

Brown Eyes reached down within herself, to the last thread of strength she possessed, and further still, to reserves of anger she didn’t know she’d had. She reached and reached still, gathering every ounce of power, every inch of determination. Her family had thrown her out for who she was, the correctional centre had tortured her for it, life itself at every turn had spat on the idea of self acceptance, pointing her towards merely surviving until Vera herself had rejected who she was. Brown Eyes’ identity had been so confused, miserable and conflicted, finding no acceptance in the world or herself, until Emma. 

Emma Chavez. A smile so natural and sweet, a voice that sounded naive but hid an array of talents and hidden wisdoms, a set of arms so warm and gentle. Vera was beneath the waves, unable to breathe, unable to resurface, but then Emma was with her, her powerful kicks driving them both upwards, carrying them to safety. 

Vera refused to die having only kissed Emma’s wonderful lips twice. 

As if her bones were unbreakable, as if no damage had been made upon her person, Vera’s hands shot from protecting her head to the foot of one of the assailants. It snapped around his ankle like a bear trap, a vicious crocodile gripping its prey, and with all the strength Vera had she pulled the leg over herself and towards a second assailant on her other side. The owner tripped over her in surprise and fell onto his fellow attacker, both of them falling to the floor. Brow Eye’s slithered out from underneath them with the speed of a striking snake and snatched her hands forward onto the throat of the remaining attacker, who was still standing. Vera let out a feral roar as she got to her feet, staring the woman with her fiery brown eyes as she lifted her from the ground and towards the sky by her neck, her nails digging in, breaking the skin. The woman struggled but couldn’t escape her grip, gasping for breath with wide white edged eyes. The mob watched on, their yells of encouragement dying on their tongues in horror. 

Vera held the woman like that, high above the crowd, making a spectacle of it, in-sighting all the fear she could. And a spectacle it was, the blizzard whipping around her black silhouette ravenously as she slowly drained the life from the terrified young woman, feet helplessly churning through the air. 

Then, her point made, Brown Eyes threw the gasping woman to the floor and rounded on the other two, who were scrambling to their feet. With a powerful kick to the head she sent the first man back to the floor and then grabbed the collar of the second. She hauled him towards her and knelt down before hitting his head onto the floor with a crack. It took her one look to know he wasn’t getting back up any time soon so she turned her attention to the other man, who seemed to be the only one remaining. 

Vera stalked over to where he lay on the floor, staring up at her wide eyed as he tried to shuffle backwards. She knelt down beside him, in the absolute silence her shoes crunched over the snow on the floor. “I don’t bleed.” She growled, her voice rumbling and guttural around the red liquid still drooling out of her mouth, “I don’t break.” Vera reached out with her injured arm and seized hold of the man’s own, pulling it beneath her and pressing her foot onto it. “But you will.” Putting all of her weight onto the man’s arm with a sharp and sudden jolt, she heard the satisfying crack of bones and tear of muscle and flesh. The man let out a wail of pain and Vera released his broken arm from her grip, standing up. 

Brown Eyes faced the crowd, preparing for the next person to step forward. 

No one did. 

_Finally._ Vera grumbled in her head. _They’re persistent, I’ll give them that._ Brown Eyes added. She stood, feet apart, fists raised, head held weakly to one side. Her shoulders rose and fell with staggering breaths. When a few more seconds of silence passed she relaxed her stance, tilting her head back and dragging in deeper breaths to regain much needed oxygen. “Numbers always win.” She began, her voice was hoarse and tired, but it was the only voice to speak and be heard. It was hard to talk though the pain in her body, it felt as if no inch of her flesh had escaped the onslaught, and her right arm especially was burning in hot agony. “I am one person and you are many. If you wanted you could kill me.” The crowd shifted, people looked at each other uncertainly, wondering if she was inviting more violence.

“But,” Vera raised her voice, strength surging through her, adrenaline holding her up despite the billowing wind of the blizzard and the snow it threw around and at her. “One of you will have to be the first.” Vera shifted on her feet, taking a step towards the front row of rioters as her words settled around them with the snow. They all took a step back, as if being approached by a grizzly bear. Which, in a way, they were. “And I promise, the first person to take a step towards me will have their throat ripped from their body.” Brown Eyes raked her gaze across the crowd, from one face to another. They knew she wasn’t lying. “Whoever is foolish enough to lead the attack; I will kill.” Vera’s shoulders sagged as she fought the pain and the exhaustion tugging at her, willing the adrenaline to last for one more minute she forced her shoulders back up. She couldn’t show weakness, not now. 

The only noises were the whimpers of the man whose arm she’d broken, the howl of the wind and the groans of those she’d bloodied and beaten. She stood on blood covered whiteness, the wall behind her marked in red from where she’d smashed heads against it. Vera set another crooked grin to her face that, though hidden behind black material, was just as intimidating. Giving them the most fearful image she was capable of, Vera lengthened her body to the greatest height she could manage. “So.” She breathed, raising her fists once more. “Who wants to go first?”

Silence.

Vera lowered her fists and turned to Matt Chavez, her point made. The man stood looking down at her from his podium of sorts, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “Matt Chavez, I have someone who wants to speak with you.” She repeated her earlier sentiments, the words far more effort to construct this time around. The man didn’t reply for a time, examining her from his height.

“Who?” He asked at last. 

“Why, Mr Chavez,” Vera bowed to him mockingly, a painful motion but Vera was running on spite by this point, “Your daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you're enjoying :)


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few more chapters to go! Leave a comment to let me know what you think :)

** Chapter 23 **

Vera, with all the capability of an elderly man, pushed the none-barricaded door of the library open and gestured for Matt to step inside. The man was swift, sliding into the darkened building like a fish darting into the crevice of a rock. Vera attempted to move as efficiently, but her legs staggered with each step. She took a moment to cast a menacing gaze back at the crowd, some of whom had taken a step towards the open door. Their movement evaporated upon her harsh glare. 

Brown Eyes slipped between the gap, into the building, and pulled it shut. Matt, who’d been waiting inside, hurriedly pushed chairs and tables back in front of the door. Vera cast him a questioning look. 

“If they get inside not even the Sun’s will would be able to keep them calm.” Mr Chavez offered in response. Vera sneered and let out a sharp, pained breath, pulling her beanie off and shoving it into her jacket pocket, her blonde hair sticking up at odd angles, slick with sweat, snow and blood. She could feel a nasty bruise forming below her right eye. 

“And remind me how this mob came to be, again?” She asked sharply.

“I had no clue my daughter would be in the middle of all this.” He snapped back, his face lined with worry and age. Vera gestured at the outside as Matt placed a final chair a top the pile of furniture. 

“Emma has always been the centre of this.” 

“I meant spatially, don’t get smart with me.”

“Dad?” Matt and Vera’s quarrel silenced at the entrance of a third voice into the conversation. A new kind of nausea gripped Vera, that of anxiety and dread. Emma was sitting at the other end of the building, the central reflective curtains would have obscured her, had Vera not torn one of them down. The ripped material hung like silver jungle foliage above the girl’s head as she got to her feet, shimmering a dull grey in the stormy light. Matt took long strides towards her but Vera remained where she was, cautious that some of the mob might yet try to break in and, admittedly, unsure whether she was still capable of movement.

 

“Emma.” The man’s voice sounded broken, not the confident tone he’d adopted in front of the crowd.

“Dad.” Emma repeated, now on her feet, her hands clasped in front of her mouth, her eyes wide. At last Matt was level with Emma. He looked her up and down, his eyes taking in every detail. Vera couldn’t see his face but imagined he was on the verge of, if not already, crying. 

Matt was the leader of an organisation that had authored the torment of Vera’s teenage years. That had tortured, reprogrammed and sold her. They hadn’t viewed her as a person, they’d viewed her as a step to victory, and stepped they had. Over and over again. They’d ground her face into the dirt with their boots as they’d climbed, and had done the same to so many others like her. They claimed to be for the people, to be better than the society, but at the end of the day all Vera had experienced from the rebellion was a different flavour of misery. Their own unique brand of cruel prejudice. 

Standing here, watching Matt, the leader of this organisation, she expected to see a tyrant address the girl he’d let get caught up in the crossfire of his own righteous ambition. But all she saw was a father reuniting with his long-lost daughter. For the briefest of moments Vera felt a shot of jealousy ring within her, as foolish and unfair as that was.

It was as if the blizzard had cleared and brilliant amber light cascaded into the building, bounding around Emma and Matt with abundant joy. It graced over their skin and hair, and across their eyes. Brown Eyes was looking at Emma, at the girl’s face. Whatever Vera was seeing, a father meeting a daughter, a reunion of lost family, Emma was not. Her face had shifted, as it had done so many times before, her eyes remained human but held the calculation and mistrust of a viper. Vera knew that look, Emma had sensed something she didn’t like, a creak in the ice beneath her feet, and as Matt leant forward to embrace her she pushed him away. 

The seconds proceeding had shown how much Matt and Emma were alike. The shape of their faces, the bright colour of their eyes. Their hair, their skin, the way they held themselves. It was clear they were related. The seconds following, as Emma looked Matt up and down, examining his pristine attire and well-done hair with observant eyes, it was clear she was also John’s daughter, too, even if not by blood. 

“No.” Emma said, simply. Vera took this in, then began to make her way over to them, satisfied no one was trying to break down the front doors, and sensing she might be needed. Her approach was slow and stiff, even limb felt disjointed, every bone felt hollow. Matt shifted in confusion. Gortald had remained silent, watching from the side, his grey eyes dark as he observed the scene, but now he chose to raise his voice.

“Who are you, Matt?” He questioned. Mr Chavez’s eyes shot onto him, confused further. Vera walked past Matt, lumbering slowly, her movement akin to a bear’s and despite her injuries just as threatening. A stalking threat, hovering by, ready when needed.

“You are the leader of the rebellion.” Brown Eyes clarified for him, wiping blood and grit from her lip and chin as she spoke. Emma gave a nod, swallowing. Matt’s eyes returned to her.

“Exactly.” Emma murmured.

“Precious, the rebellion are the good guys. We’re fighting for what’s right.” Matt explained, “You have nothing to worry about with us.” 

“Jill gave me a tour of what the rebellion does.” Emma argued through bared teeth, “I don’t see how you’re any different from the society. From any of the filthy humans I’ve met these past few days.” Matt opened his mouth to protest, “You hurt whoever you need to if it gets what you want.” The man fastened his hands onto Emma’s arms, leaning down to look her in the eyes. She returned his gaze defiantly, challenging him to answer.

“Emma, we _are_ the good guys. We’re fighting for a better Bochardess, one that will care for all the good people in it. But we’re facing against a government of cutthroats and cheats, we can’t hope to win without doing a little throat cutting and cheating ourselves. It’s for the greater good.” Vera felt her skin crawl at his excuses as she leant against a wall in the corner, her legs struggling to keep herself vertical.

“What about the people you hurt?” Vera cut in, “Are they included in the ‘good people’ that Bochardess will care for?” Matt released Emma and stood to his full height, looking at Vera. 

“There are always casualties in war. It’s a tragedy but it is necessary.”

“What about selling sex with a minor? Is _that_ necessary?” Vera’s expression hardened. “What about filling children with chemicals to try and control how their brain works, to try and turn their own mind against them, Is that _also_ necessary?” Matt’s face shifted. 

“We are helping those children. They’re ill. We cure them. If they’re too ungrateful to see that then so be it.” Matt startled as Emma spat on the ground at his feet. The girl then took a few steps away from him and towards John’s corpse. Emma took a hold of the material covering his body and, turning her head away from it, she pulled the sheet off of him. 

John looked paler that he had in life, his face trapped in an expression of loss, mouth hanging open, eyes fixed on a non-existent horizon. Vera turned away. 

Matt’s eyes widened. “Antonio…” He breathed in shock. Emma took a step away from the body, still not looking at it, and turned her eyes on Matt. She pointed down at John’s body. 

“Tell me how you’re different.” She ordered.

“The ends justify the means-” Matt never got to finish his sentence. 

“The ends do _not_ justify the means!” Emma roared, her face red. The room fell silent, the only noise the blizzard outside. “I’m so tired of everyone telling me this! Telling me that terrible crimes are justified because of what they achieve. That atrocities done in the name of good are not really atrocities, as if we are competent judges of what is a good end and what is a bad.” Emma narrowed her eyes, her teeth bared, “There is no guarantee that these precious ends of yours will happen. There is no guarantee that the pain you cause will bring about more happiness.” Emma gestured at John, “The ‘ends justify the means’ has children molested, minorities mistreated and the poor left to rot. The ‘ends justify the means’ has daughters shoot the closest thing to a father they ever had!” She pointed at Matt, “You are so sure that what you’re doing will bring about a better Bochardess. That the ‘ends’ you chase after are more important than anyone else’s rights. Well, guess what,” Emma gestured back at John, “So did he.”

“Emma-” 

“Tell me!” Emma screamed over him, her face red, “Where is the difference?”

“My ends _are_ better.” Matt insisted. Emma scoffed, putting her hands on her hips and turning away from him, shaking her head in disbelief. She paced in a circle, her eyes avoiding the corpse of her ‘father’. Finally, she turned back to Matt, her voice low and harsh. 

“There are no ends, Matt!” She hissed, “There are only moments. Moments where people can feel pain or happiness or neither. Each one is valuable in of itself and you have no right to sacrifice the ones you deem unfit in the name of the ones you deem are.” 

Vera was utterly lost at this point, the words being thrown around her were beginning to sound like the dreary philosophy books she’d read in the cottage on her first day as Emma’s bodyguard. Only now, it was far more real. She had no clue what they meant by ‘ends’ or ‘competent judges’ or any of the many terms fluttering around her. It felt like grasping at mist, impossible to tie down and make sense of. 

Feeling out of her depth, Vera could only look on. She wasn’t sure if she agreed with Emma, but after all she’d been through, she could sense at least some truth in the girl’s words. Emma’s voice went on, “It’s your mentality that leads to people thinking they are above others, that they have the divine right to control and decide who gets what and who goes where. That they have some entitlement to rule when they don’t. What the rebellion have done under your reign is unforgivable and inexcusable.” Emma took a shaky breath, “I want nothing to do with you.” Vera blinked in surprise, her mouth open in shock.

“Thirteen years seems like plenty of time to twist someone’s worldview.” Matt murmured to himself, “Antonio really got his claws into you, huh?” He sighed, “Emma, you don’t have a choice. You’ve been held prisoner for so long, you don’t know what you’re saying. I’m going to take you home, where you’ll be safe, and we’ll start work on your recovery. Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything.” Emma’s eyes widened in indignation. Vera clenched her jaw shut and took a few steps over to the girl’s side, her pace as quick as her bruised body would allow. 

“You’re sounding more like John by the minute.” Emma spat. “I’m surprised you two weren’t friends.” Matt held Emma’s gaze for a few seconds, letting out a long breath, then gestured at John’s body,

“If that man there is the one you call John, then we were friends. Very close.” His brow furrowed, “He betrayed me. He betrayed the rebellion. Emma, _he_ was a bad man. _I’m_ a good man, it may be hard to see this right now but one day you’ll understand.” Emma’s face hardened, as if Matt’s words only solidified what the girl already knew. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She said finally. Matt narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, frustration flashing in his eyes. 

“Why did you bring me in here, then?” He asked at last. Gortald took a step forward. His pale form, draped in a scuffed suit, moving into the light like a phantom. 

“I’m glad you finally asked, Matt Chavez.” Gortald announced in his calculating tone. Matt looked him up and down, his shoulders squared as a realisation struck him. 

“Olivech Gortald.” He gave a bow, his eyes dark, “I never thought I’d get the pleasure.” Gortald matched his bow with an equally fake one. 

“Nor I.” They stood in silence, both looking as unsure as the other. Vera guessed it wasn’t every day you spoke with your nemesis. 

“You’re going to work with Gortald.” Emma proclaimed, sounding as tired as Vera felt. Matt furrowed his brow, looking from Emma and back to Gortald with harsh green eyes. 

“I will not.” Emma breathed out in frustration,

“You will or I’ll make sure you never see me again.” Matt glanced at her questioningly. “I can barely stand to look at you right now, after all you’ve done, but if you change your ways, if you work with Gortald, not against him, I might reconsider.” Matt pursed his lips and shook his head, 

“This man,” He said, gesturing at Gortald, who regarded his hand with contempt that reminded Vera distinctly of how a cat looks at inadequate meals. “Is a villain. He perpetuates the divide in Bochardess and does nothing to fix the rampant inequality.”

“Inaccurate.” Gortald muttered as if this were all a boring chess game. Matt looked at him, wide-eyed. 

“Excuse me?”

“That is inaccurate. It means incorrect. Not factually sound.”

“I know what it means.” Matt huffed. Gortald shrugged. _You could make this easier for us._ Vera muttered in her head. 

“What he means to say,” Emma cut in, “Is that he also wants to make Bochardess a better place. In fact, he’s the best shot at doing so peacefully. But…” Emma nodded towards the front door, “If he dies he won’t be able to do squat.” 

“You want me to help the leader of the society escape?” Matt clarified, gesturing at Gortald, unconvinced. 

“If you would be so kind.” Gortald grinned. Matt let out a breath of disbelief and crossed his arms, 

“What a day.” 

“I’m going to be staying by Gortald’s side,” Emma explained, “So if anything happens to him, it happens to me, too.” Matt narrowed his eyes at that. Gortald took a step towards him and, with an air of reluctance, extended his arm. 

“I trust you as much as you trust me,” Gortald reasoned, “But I do want to change how Bochardess operates. I aim to make it fairer and reform its laws.” Matt examined his hand, grumbled to himself, and took a hold of it. It was the most insincere handshake Vera had ever witnessed, as if both participants considered the other a solid shape of grease and couldn’t wait to free their hand from the disgusting mixture. 

“I don’t see how I have much of a choice.” 

“Not if you want me to get out of this alive.” Emma reminded him. Gortald retracted his hand and, not very subtly, wiped it on his trousers. He reached into his pocket and produced a small card, holding it out to Matt. 

“A gesture of good faith.” He elaborated as Matt cautiously took the card, “My phone number. Should you want to discuss how to improve Bochardess, call me on that.” Gortald narrowed his eyes, “And please, keep that to yourself. Many would kill to get my number and I’d hate to have to replace my phone.” Matt pocketed the thing, casting his eyes over Gortald. 

“Don’t think I’m happy about this.” He grumbled, turning his eyes back to Emma. “Last chance, darling?’ He asked hopefully. Emma turned away from him. Vera fixed Matt with a harsh glare. 

“We want to leave sooner rather than later.” Vera nudged him. Matt clenched his jaw but said nothing, only turning and calmly walking to the front doors of the place. 

They watched him clear the barricade and reach for the door handle. He was about to push it open when he glanced back at them. 

“When it’s time get out of here. Don’t look back, don’t talk to anyone, just-”

“Yes, yes, we know.” Gortald sighed, making a shooing motion with his hand, “Get on with it.” Matt’s eyes narrowed, fixing on Emma, who refused to return his look. He gripped the door handle tightly and swung it open, stepping out into the cold, white light. The door closed behind him, and he was gone. 

Vera took the opportunity to replace the ripped down curtain back over John’s body, then wrapped Emma in an embrace, feeling the girl shake beneath her injured arms. 

“We’re going home.” Vera murmured gently. Emma gave a nod, not speaking. _Where even is home?_ Matt’s muted voice could be heard informing the mob that the society were huddled up in a building north from here. Shouts of dismay and protest rose from outside, reaching into the building and surrounding the three of them. Footsteps sounded, as if a heard of cattle were on the move. _That’s our chance to leave._ Vera looked down at Emma, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head and giving her hair a gentle stroke before turning her eyes to Gortald. “Time to go.” She murmured in a low voice, regrettably letting go of Emma and moving with a purposeful limp towards the window at the side of the Library of Definitive Arts. Emma looked down at John’s dead body.

“Goodbye.” She breathed, her voice barely a whimper and yet carried so clearly by the acoustics of the building. Emma hurried after Vera and, once she’d caught up to her, took a hold of her hand. The shorter girl glanced over her shoulder at her ‘father’s’ body on the floor, hidden beneath the curtain, her pace slowing as if she wanted to spend more time before leaving. Brown Eyes would have given anything for such time, but there simply wasn’t an opportunity to grieve yet. Vera gave Emma’s hand a comforting squeeze, “Don’t do that to yourself.” Vera warned softly, “Don’t look.” Emma pursed her lips, swallowed and nodded before turning her head to look in front of her. 

Gortald slipped ahead of the two, poking his head out of the broken window and peering out onto the street.

“It’s clear.” He confirmed, gingerly stepping out into the cold, his lanky frame already shuddering. Vera followed closely behind, her limbs straining at the effort, before turning to help Emma out after her. The snow hurled itself around Vera in howls of freezing rage and it occurred to her, briefly, that she may not have the reserves to make it to wherever it was they were headed.

“We need to find Tsuru.” Vera instructed Gortald as they three of them slowly made their way over to the garden that paralleled the Library. Speed was important, they wouldn’t have long before rioters would spot them, but given the injured state of both Gortald and Vera, and the mental state of Emma, haste was eluding them. Gortald ducked behind a hedge in the garden, following it along, Vera and Emma on his heels. 

“Already on it.” Gortald responded, his voice rasped. His right hand was swiftly typing away on his phone, the man himself not even looking down at the thing. He finished whatever he was texting and placed the phone back in his jacket pocket. 

“Oh, my God, Vera! Your face…” Emma looked Vera up and down, pressing a hand gently to her cheek. Vera pulled her face away, wincing. 

“Ouch.” She said in a low voice. Emma flinched,

“Sorry.” Emma’s green eyes finally realised the beating Vera had taken. She opened her mouth to say something,

“No time.” Vera cut her off through gritted teeth, “Just keep moving, we’ll lick our wounds later.” Emma’s face pulled into a look of disgust, “Not literally.” Vera added, amusement settling in her belly despite everything. 

The garden ended and then they were slinking their way between alleys, ducking behind bins and wooden crates every time a group would pass by, loudly chanting their hatred into the snow, swinging their bats and torches, hurling bricks at windows. Vera saw a few people out and about who didn’t seem to be raging against the system. A mother and her children were huddled by the side of a snow-covered car, slowly hobbling through the storm. Two young teenagers were clutching each other a bit further on as they hurried to get off the streets. 

Snow and mist obscured her vision, and Vera could barely see ten feet down the road in front of them, so she was utterly unprepared when the looming silhouettes of ten or more rioters ebbed into view, joining the small number of people timidly moving in the area. “Quick!” She hissed, shoving Emma behind a building to their left, following as swiftly as she could. Gortald joined them, crouching at their side. They’d managed to avoid detection so far, but it seemed their luck was running out. One of the mob members, a tall man, called to his associates. 

“Hey, suit!” He cried, pointing his flaming torch in Gortald’s direction, his face obscured by a brown piece of cloth. 

“ _Uurgoe_ …” Gortald cursed, getting to his feet and turning to run. Vera reached for purchase on the building, hauling herself onto her shaky legs. She knew she was in no state to out-run anyone. 

It didn’t come to that, though, as one of the women in the group hurled a tennis ball sized object in their direction. It fell with a soft thud at their feet in the snow. 

The three of them looked down at it, eyes wide. Emma seemed confused, clearly she’d never seen one of these before. But both Gortald and Vera had. _A grenade._ Vera was a second too late to react, her body frozen from fear, exhaustion and pain. Gortald, on the other hand, took less than a second before he gave the device a solid kick with his right leg. It soared into the air in a smooth arc away from them, and landed next to a snow-covered car. Gortald realised his mistake too late. 

The storm wasn’t enough to smother the mother’s scream, cutting clear through the blizzard as she desperately tried to warn her children. Then an explosion rocked through Vera’s body, silencing the cry. A bright bloom of red erupted on the other side of the street and there was a moment of stunned stillness. Vera blinked, then blinked again, then turned to Gortald, her heart in her throat. They needed to leave, now, but her mind was static.

Gortald was worse, his eyes fixed to where the grenade had landed.

“We need to…” Emma’s voice died in her throat. Vera gave a muted nod in response, Gortald didn’t move a muscle, he was fixed to the spot.

“He killed them!” A voice cried from the crowd,

“The suit killed them!” Another joined in indignation. Gortald opened his mouth numbly,

“No…” His words trailed off as if he was no longer awake, as if his mind had left him. A tall man took a few threatening steps towards them, others following behind. _This is bad._ Vera’s eyes darted from one angry face to the next, she simply couldn’t take another beating. 

An obnoxious red blur flashed through the brightness of the snow and collided with the tall man, shoving him backwards into those behind him. 

“Move!” Tsuru urgently yelled, turning on his heels towards them. He rushed towards Gortald, grabbing a hold of his hand, and practically dragged the stunned man after him. Vera took a sharp breath,

“You heard him.” She hissed, turning to go, Emma at her side. Yells of indignation and fury echoed around the alley after them, swirling around Vera’s head, a dark cloud promising violence. 

“This way.” Tsuru called over his shoulder, turning right into another snow-filled alley, Gortald stumbling in his wake. Vera took the abrupt turn too fast and slid, stopping sharply when she hit a wall, and let out a yelp of pain before falling to her knees. 

“Get up!” Emma’s voice reached her head, filled with buzzing. Vera gave a nod, slowly rising to her feet. “Come on,” Emma encouraged her, lofting the taller girl up by her shoulders, “we need to hurry.” Vera gave another nod, and then they were running again. Even jolt of her feet onto the snow, every rushed breath of the freezing air, was a tidal wave of pain crashing around her bones and muscles, torn and bruised in what felt like every possible place. At least the shouts of the mob were fading behind them.

Vera and Emma kept running. The buildings around them grew taller and taller, towering like giants, before shrinking into apartment complexes and shops with broken windows. At some point Vera lost sight of Tsuru so they moved aimlessly, desperate to get out of West Bochardess. 

Halfway down an empty street, populated only by abandoned cars and debris from the riot, a hand snapped out at Vera, grabbing a hold of her jacket’s sleeve, and pulled her aggressively into a darkened side street. Vera toppled over, her balance almost entirely gone, and fell with a grunt into the snow. She heard a feral screech as Emma launched herself at the assailant, tackling him to the ground and off of Vera. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He protested. Vera recognised the voice, relieved to realise it was Tsuru. Emma stopped her onslaught, her shoulders dropping in relief. 

“God, you scared me.” The shorter girl muttered, stepping off of him. Vera propped herself up with her shaking arms, not able to bring herself back up to her feet just yet. Emma joined her, sitting at her side, offering something solid to lean against, Vera giving her a silent thanks. Tsuru was sat leaning against a wall, a paler than usual Gortald next to him, staring at the ground. 

“What now?” Vera managed between gasps. Tsuru sucked in a breath, looking from Vera to Emma.

“What the hell happened in there?” He asked. Neither of them answered. “I heard gunshots.” Emma looked away, her lips pursed tightly together. 

“Not now.” Vera responded coldly,

“But-”

“Not. Now.” She repeated with teeth bared, pushing herself upwards enough to lean her back against the wall. The man gave a nod, 

“Sure.” Was all he said, glancing up and down the alley they’d found themselves in. “Jesus, where even are we?” Vera cast her own eyes around, taking the street in, the wires above their heads, the cement walls, the snow-covered ground. 

“Edge of West Bochardess.” She answered, her mind mentally placing them on a map, “South Bochardess is ten minutes that way,” She said, gesturing to her left, “East about five that way.” She added with a point somewhere more towards her right, her arm flopping down uselessly besides her once she’d finished. Tsuru gave a nod, 

“I have a bolt hole in South, we could lay low there.” He offered. 

“No.” Gortald finally spoke up, his voice firm. “I want to get out of the city.” Tsuru turned to him, looking him up and down. Olivech Gortald tore his eyes from the pavement, looking up at Tsuru, his face vulnerable. “Please.” Tsuru stunned for a second, seemingly unable to process the word that had just escaped Gortald’s mouth, then gave an uncertain nod. 

“Sure. East Bochardess, then.” He turned to Vera and Emma, “I have a bolt hole there too, it’s a bit further, think you can make it?” He asked. Emma nodded, Vera took a moment, thinking it over, but realised she didn’t have much of a choice. 

“I guess I’ll have to.” She grumbled. As much as everything hurt, she was beginning to feel the cold, and her body was shaking more with each passing second. She needed warmth now, more than anything.

No one seemed unharmed when they rose back to their feet, either in mind or body, but there was no other option available to them, so they turned towards East Bochardess and began to walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few more chapters to go! Leave a comment to let me know what you think :)


	25. Chapter 24

** Chapter 24 **

East Bochardess wasn’t really a part of the city. It was sparsely populated and underdeveloped. But it had one thing that kept it on the map: a train station. It was old, rusted, and ran trains once every few days, but it was something powerful. It was an escape from Bochardess, one that could take you far away from the city and its inhabitants. 

Vera hadn’t packed much. An extra set of clothes, some essentials, money and a phone were all that occupied her back pack. It would be enough. Emma, surprisingly, had done much the same. Her contents fitting into a black duffle bag and a violin case slung over her shoulder. 

The shorter girl had been quiet in the days following the incident at the Library of Definitive Arts. Vera had tried to talk to her about what had happened, but Emma refused to speak of the events that had occurred in the Library of Definitive Arts. In fact, she showed little signs of mourning at all, seemingly unaffected. That was, until they returned to the cottage. 

Walking up those stairs again after all that had happened felt surreal. Vera’s eyes darted around the place that had been home to her for what felt like a month, but was really much less. She’d arrived at her room, selected what she’d needed, and exited, only to hear the soft tones of a violin. She stood still, listening mournfully as the song continued. It was slow and quiet, as if ashamed of its own noise. 

Vera took soft steps towards Emma’s room and opened the door, the creak the final blow to the already quiet song, smothering the melody into silence. Emma was faced away from her, frozen still with the bow inches from the strings, shaking in the girls hand. The sun was weak as it slithered its way into the room and around the girl, a miserable embrace of light. Emma held her position. Then, as if she’d never been standing in the first place, as if she were a puppet cut from her strings, she was on the ground, on her knees, the violin clutched to her chest as sobs racked her whole body, loud and gushing with pain. The bow clattered to the floor by her side.

Vera dropped her things and walked over to Emma, kneeling at her side. She put her arms around the girl, pulling her in, and rested her head atop her’s, running her fingers through her dark hair. Emma let the violin fall to the floor, fastening her arms around Vera’s waist with a grip so tight. 

“He’s gone.” Emma sobbed, taking in shuddering breaths, the noises escaping her mouth barely human. 

“I know.” Was all Vera could say. “I know.”

 

In the days proceeding the riot not much had happened. Gortald had organised all the transport Vera, Emma and Tsuru needed, and had set to work contacting members of the Society in the hopes that most had survived what was now being called the Storm of Defiance, or Day of Defiance, or some other just as ridiculous title. He’d shown little sign of being scarred from the events, except at night. Vera had heard him once, mumbling, waking with a start, then laying silently, without returning to sleep. 

Tsuru hadn’t been around much. He’d claimed he was going to his other bolt holes, collecting his belongings and provisions, but the food he returned with was fresh. Vera guessed he’d never actually bothered to stock any of his bolt holes with food and was simply going to the near by store to get the food. Either way, it didn’t matter, Tsuru was delighted to have meat again. Besides, it was difficult to talk to him, and for him to talk to them, knowing that each conversation was a step closer to their last.

Vera and Emma had talked, and gone on walks, and talked some more. Vera could tell Emma was just as exhausted as her, which helped the waiting in part, and it was nice to just be around each other, not having to worry about what to do next or who was trying to hurt them. It was refreshing, even if something wasn’t quite right with Emma.

_Give her time._ Vera told herself as she stood by East Bochardess’ train station, backpack in hand, looking into the distance, past the fields. Past the one storey, square buildings of the cold district. At the impersonal skyscrapers of West Bochardess reaching up towards the clouds like hungry fingers. 

“You’re deep in thought.” Gortald commented, appearing at her side seemingly from nowhere. Vera didn’t startle, she merely glanced over her shoulder as the man walked forward to be level with her. 

“There’s a lot to think on.” She retorted defensively, then smirked, “Nice outfit.” She chided. Gortald cleared his throat awkwardly, and went to straighten his tie, before remembering he wasn’t wearing one. He’d been forced to borrow Tsuru’s clothes, and it didn’t take a genius to tell that Gortald was not a fan of jeans and leather jackets. 

“Why aren’t you waiting with everyone else?” He asked, moving on swiftly. Vera turned briefly to look behind herself. Tsuru, Emma and Conner stood talking by the platform. They’d contacted the police officer to let him know what had happened, and what they’d discovered. He’d insisted on seeing them off. 

“I needed a minute.” Vera turned back around, facing towards Bochardess. She nodded in their direction. “I still remember when I first saw those buildings, edging the distant horizon.” She gave her head a shake, “I had felt relieved.” She muttered ruefully. Silence stretched out between the two of them as they watched the city wake. The sun was low in the sky and a frosty mist had set around the buildings, a lake of vapour. Bird song echoed in the empty air from a nearby tree, bare of all leaves. Vera took in a sharp breath, turning to Gortald. “Why did you hire me?” She asked suddenly. Gortald didn’t respond, he merely blinked. Vera exhaled quickly through her nose in frustration, crossing her arms and turning back towards the view. 

 

“I owed you.” He offered in a small voice. Vera laughed once.

“You owed me a debt, and you repaid it by throwing me into a war.” 

“No.” Gortald shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as if dealing with a child. Frustration rose within Vera. 

“Then just explain it to me, will you? I had no experience as a bodyguard. No qualifications to speak of. It pains me to say this, believe me it really does, but _Tsuru was right._ ” Vera shrugged, “I was a liability. So why?”

“You want the truth?” Gortald asked.

“Dear _Uurgoe,_ please.”

“I didn’t send you there to be Emma’s bodyguard. That was Tsuru’s job, that’s what he knows. He’s had years of experience working jobs like these, jobs that require professionalism and diligence.” 

“I’m flattered.” Vera said flatly. Gortald cast her a silencing look, then continued.

“I sent you to be Emma’s friend.” He paused, “And, in a way, I sent you so Emma could be your friend in return.” Gortald went to adjust his cuff links, glanced down at his hands, and put them back to his side in frustration, remembering his attire. 

“I’m not following.” Vera furrowed her brow.

“Emma didn’t deserve what she went through and neither did you. I saw an opportunity to repay my debt to you with a companionship.” 

“And…?” Vera cut in, raising an eyebrow. “You’re some selfless saint, then?” Gortald let out a breath, 

“And… I hoped you would help Emma defy her father.” Gortald muttered guiltily. “I never intended it to reach the point it did,” He added hastily, “but I knew what John was planning, I knew the kind of methodical man he was. The only way I could see myself coming out on top was to get Emma to stop John for me. She was his only exploitable weakness I could influence.” He straightened his back, “I’ll admit none of it turned out quite the way I’d envisioned.”

“But without Emma as blackmail the Rebellion would have attacked.” Vera pointed out. Gortald shrugged,

“So be it. The Society had a good chance of surviving an onslaught. My integrity, however, couldn’t survive another day of that poor girl being locked alone in that prison.” Gortald pursed his lips, looking down at the floor. For once he refused to meet Vera’s eyes. “I wanted to make reforms and I couldn’t see a better place to start. You and Emma are people who’ve been particularly wronged by this squabbling, it seemed natural to put you two together in the hopes you’d both recover.” He turned to look at Vera now, his grey eyes serious, “I didn’t lie to you, Vera. I’m _not_ like my predecessors.” Gortald looked away again, his face returning to its neutral state. “I just wanted to re-pay you and Emma what I owed you.” Vera furrowed her brow, 

“You owed Emma?” She asked, confused. 

“Yes.” 

“I don’t understand, I thought-”

“That night, Vera.” He cut across, “When you saved me, I was already on my way to find you.” Vera stalled, her mind turning to blank. 

“But…”

“I heard about you. I heard about what you were doing, and I did some research, looked into who you were. When I realised all you’d been through, all the Rebellion and the Society had put you through, I knew you were the perfect candidate to help. I had to right the wrong my family authored upon you.” Gortald did something Vera was sure she imagined, he smiled a genuine smile. “You saving my life was a rather dramatic introduction but an introduction all the same.” The smile vanished, “It also saved me the trouble of explaining anything to you which, I’ll admit, was far more effort and time than I had available.” 

Vera turned away from Gortald, looking out over the city once more. Her mind was twisting and turning the puzzle pieces, fitting them into place, at last seeing the bigger picture, at last understanding the ‘why’ behind all of this. “Oh, and, I thought I’d let you know. A lot of buildings were destroyed in the riot. Burnt down or exploded or damaged beyond repair. We’ll replace them, but not with cement. We’ll build them back the Bochardian way.” Vera couldn’t respond, her mind lost in all that had happened. “Back in deep thought?”

“Yeah.” She breathed. Then, quietly, “Thank you.” Gortald shrugged, 

“Don’t thank me, would you thank someone for paying off their loan? I owed you a debt. I’ve paid that. We’re even now.”

“The hard bits over, at least.” Vera offered into the quiet morning. 

“For you.” Gortald grumbled, “I have a lot to sort out. A torrent of propaganda to erase, laws to bring in and laws to abolish, a corrupted police force to fix.” He let out a tired sigh, “And all of this without bribes or under the table deals.” Gortald shook his head, “Sometimes I curse my own moral compass.” 

“Don’t.” Vera said strongly, “It’s as you’ve said, Gortald. You’re not like your predecessors.” Vera glanced over her shoulder, back at Conner, “If you’re worried about keeping the police force in line without bribes, don’t.” She gestured over her shoulder at Conner with her thumb, “That man is probably the least corruptible in the whole of Bochardess.” Vera realised that wasn’t saying much, but Gortald understood her sentiment. “Put him in charge.” Gortald smirked,

“You know, Vera? That’s exactly what I’d had in mind.” He cast his grey eyes over her, “Perhaps you have the brain of a Gortald.”

“Don’t say that.” Vera winced, “There is nothing I want less than to think like you.” The conversation seemed to end on that, silently and without warning. They stood, next to each other, but not really together. “Is this it, then?” She asked after a minute. Gortald inclined his head. 

“I’ve extended my farewells to Emma and Tsuru. I came over to give mine to you.” Vera gave an understanding nod, 

“Well, Gortald.” She held out her hand, “I’ll be in touch.” Olivech Gortald examined her hand then took it, giving a firm shake. 

“For your own sake, I won’t.” He responded cooly, releasing her hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” Gortald turned and set a brisk pace down the road. 

“Gortald?” Vera called after him, not so loudly that the others would here. 

“Hm?” Gortald didn’t turn to look back at her, but he did stop walking.

“Talk to someone… about those nightmares. You can’t keep it all to yourself.” _Trust me, I know._ Gortald didn’t respond, his shoulders stiff and squared. Vera couldn’t help thinking of how terrified he’d looked on that stormy night, watching as the grenade went off on those people. 

Eventually the man slid a phone out of his pocket and typed onto it, walking once more down the road. No response was made. 

Vera heard Tsuru’s phone buzz from behind her and turned to look back at the three people she’d come to know standing by the station. Tsuru was checking over his phone. Vera furrowed her brow, _Odd_. She thought, turning back to look at Gortald but, as mysteriously as he’d first arrived in her life, he was gone. Vera watched the space he’d just been for a few moments, questions and answers fluttering around her like butterflies, before she pulled herself from her day dream and turned to rejoin the others by the station, accepting that was the last she’d see of Gortald. 

Emma was laughing at something Tsuru had said, Conner looked unamused. 

“Does he always tell this many puns?” He asked Vera as she rejoined them. It was odd seeing him not in his bright orange police jacket. Vera narrowed her eyes at Tsuru. 

“Unfortunately.” She grumbled. Conner glanced at his watch,

“It’s been a wild ride, kids, but I’ve got to go. Some of us have real jobs to turn up to.” He joked. 

“See you.” Tsuru said simply. 

“Thanks for everything.” Emma offered more kindly, giving him a quick hug. Vera gave him a nod, 

“Best of luck.” She said. Conner nodded back at her, smiling brightly, 

“You too, kiddo. You too.” He gave them a last wave before walking off towards his car. The old thing spluttered away from them. Vera and Emma turned to Tsuru, who looked back at them in kind. This was the goodbye Vera was looking forward to least.

“Well.” Emma breathed, her voice hoarse. Tsuru nodded,

“Well, indeed.” Emma looked down at the ground in silence. Tsuru huffed reluctantly, “Fine, come here.” He said. Emma smiled, it was weak and tinged with sadness, but still a smile. She stepped forward and gave Tsuru a hug. The man looked startled and Vera realised that Emma was squeezing the breath out of him. “Okay, okay…” Tsuru protested, trying to free himself from the embrace. Emma let go and stepped back. Tsuru breathed in and then out, adjusting his bright red jacket and sunglasses back into their usual position before giving his black hair a ruffle. He turned to Vera, “Please tell me you don’t also want a hug?” He joked.

“I’m good.” Vera said dryly, folding her arms. Tsuru hesitated. Vera rolled her eyes, “I’m not adverse to one, either.” Tsuru took a step towards her and wrapped his arms around her, Vera responding in kind. She gave him a few pats on his back, and he did the same, and then they separated, looking at each other. “Let us know how it goes, and if you need anything.” Vera insisted, putting her hand on his shoulder to emphasise her point. Tsuru gave a nod. 

“Nervous?” Emma asked as Vera removed her hand. 

“Me? No.” Tsuru scoffed. Then, his face darkening, “I haven’t seen my family in so long, I never gave them the chance to accept me because I was too scared they wouldn’t, but… who knows. You both accepted me, so, who’s to say they won’t?” He gave a laugh but it sounded hollow. He sighed, “If I never go back, I’ll never know.” 

“My offer still stands, if you want us to come with you.” Emma reminded him. Tsuru smirked at her and shook his head, 

“As impressive as your Japanese is, it would never hold up in Tokyo, sorry.” He waved his hand dismissively, “This is something I’ve got to do myself.”

“What will you do afterwards?” Vera couldn’t help asking, wondering if this was the last she’d ever see of the man. Tsuru shrugged, 

“Probably the same jobs as before. I’m not entirely against the idea.” 

“Why on earth would you want to do these kinds of jobs more than once?” Vera muttered. Tsuru winked at her, 

“The company.” He responded. Quite unexpectedly he pulled the two of them in for one last hug, before pushing them away, “You tell _anyone_ about that and I will kill you both.” Emma laughed and Vera couldn’t help a snort of amusement. Tsuru narrowed his eyes, “No. No, I mean it.” 

“Sure.” Emma teased. Tsuru huffed and folded his arms, grumbling to himself. 

“Well, I’m off.” He said at last, moving towards his red motorbike. 

“Can’t you stay until our train leaves?” Emma pleaded, watching the man mount his bike and get it started. Tsuru didn’t say anything, merely shook his head. Vera couldn’t see his eyes, they were hidden behind his sunglasses. 

“Not you’re style, is it?” Vera spoke up. Tsuru pursed his lips and looked over at them, 

“Nope.” He confirmed, holding her gaze with the tinted lenses. Then the bike roared to life. Tsuru gave it a few revs before pulling away at high speed, his red jacket trailing behind him in the wind, the helmets clanging against the side of the vehicle, unused. Vera caught one last glimpse of its bright colour before the man and his vehicle disappeared behind a building, out of sight. They could still hear it’s engine for a few seconds more before it dwindled in the distance. 

Vera felt a stone of sadness tug at her chest and allowed it to hang there, accepting that this may very well be the last time she’d speak to him. That Tsuru may or may not be out of her life for good.

“What a relief, I was wondering if he’d ever leave.” Vera joked, looking down at Emma. The girl let out a laugh, her eyes brimming. They turned in unison and walked alongside the station. “No more puns, thank _Uurgoe,_ I was near insanity.”

“Did you hear about the man that had his left side cut off?” Emma cut in abruptly, something odd about the way she phrased it put Vera on edge. 

“No.” Vera answered simply, aware of a trap but blind to its nature. Emma grinned, 

“Oh, He’s all right now.” Vera stopped in her tracks, staring out into the distance in despair. Emma burst out laughing. Vera shook her head and kept walking. “You’ve got a whole train journey of this to look forward to,” Emma added, “Tsuru gave me one of his pun books.” Vera cast her eyes upwards, praying to whatever may or may not be up there to spare her from the torment. Emma had gone silent and Vera looked down at her. 

“What is it?” She asked. Emma was looking past Vera. Vera turned her head to follow the girl’s gaze and saw it landing on a small wooden bridge over a fast flowing river. Emma walked past Vera and onto the bridge, leaning against the railings. Vera followed, anxiously glancing down at the water. “Em?” She stood next to Emma and took a firm hold of the railings, looking the shorter girl up and down, trying to push the rushing water to the back of her mind. 

The movement was so sudden and swift, and Vera was so distracted with the churning waves, she almost missed it. Emma’s hand shot onto her golden cross necklace, fastening around the chain, and with a tug she snapped the thing from around her neck. Arm outstretched, the necklace dangling above the rushing water below. The cross glinted in the light as it jerked right and left.

“So long as I wear this I am not free.” Emma said at last, her plain, green eyes tracing up and down the piece of jewellery. “I was locked away, alone, for _thirteen_ years. I knew nothing of the suffering outside, nor of the happiness. I was safe.” Emma’s hand loosened and the chain slid through her hand. Vera watched it tensely. At the last second Emma clamped her hand shut and the necklace stopped with a jolt, moments from falling into the river. The water below moved hungrily, so clear Vera could see the pebbles and stones moving on the river bed, being swept along with the current. The grass on either side arching down towards the sloshing mass. “The price for safety is ignorance.” Emma’s voice joined the calm constant of the water, matching its tranquil quietness. “I can pay it no longer.” Emma opened her palm and the necklace fell, finding its grave in the river with a splash. 

Emma let out a breath and turned to Vera, looking up at her. Vera, as always, felt so welcomed by those eyes. They looked at her, searched her face in such an honest way, a way she couldn’t describe nor forget. Emma stood on tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on Vera’s lips before pulling away. “Shall we?” Emma asked, nodding her head towards the station, towards the train sitting sadly on its tracks. 

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Vera murmured. Emma looked puzzled but gave a nod and smiled softly, 

“Okay.” She said, before turning and walking towards the station, her duffel bag and violin case bumping against each other as she went, a small skip in her step. Vera watched after her, then turned back to the river. 

In the days proceeding Vera had done little, but one thing she had done was slip away on her own for a few minutes. One thing she had done was go to an old, familiar alley and meet with some old, familiar ‘friends’.

Vera pulled her backpack onto the railings, resting it there. Pulling at the zippers she opened the thing and looked shamefully inside. 

Three syringes of _sunshine_ sat timidly on top of her clothes. 

Vera glanced over her shoulder at Emma, waiting by the train doors, inspecting the old paint work on the locomotive curiously. Vera supposed she’d never seen a train before. Vera looked back at the bag and took the three syringes out of it. 

She dropped the first one into the river with ease.

She hesitated when dropping the second. 

The third, tightly secured in her hand, never made contact with the water. Vera’s hand was shaking at the effort, and her eyes were narrowed to slits at the object in her hand. _Let go._ She begged with herself. Pleaded desperately. 

After a minute of struggle Brown Eyes sneered and let out a sharp breath, returning the syringe into her backpack. 

The train was mostly empty, and the carriage Vera and Emma settled in had no other souls in sight. They took a set of four seats with a table in between, depositing their bags onto the seats opposite with a soft thud, accompanied by a second set of thuds as they both flopped down onto the seats with a sigh of relief, their feet aching. 

“So. _Ranbanad._ What even is that? Sounds ridiculous.” Emma snorted. Vera shrugged, looking out the window as the train pulled away from the station and began its long journey towards the coast. 

“It’s a type of bread, but it’s mainly eaten as a _bonno._ ”

“A ‘ _bonno_ ’?” Emma prodded. Vera raised an eyebrow,

“What you have before desert.” She offered. 

“You mean ‘main course’?”

“No, that comes before the _bonno,_ obviously.”

“Obviously.” Emma imitated Vera’s voice, pulling a face. Vera looked unimpressed but was desperately fighting off a smile. 

“Shut up.” Vera reached out and placed her hand to the back of Emma’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Emma let out a noise of surprise that dwindled on Vera’s lips. There was no one else on the carriage so Vera couldn’t care less. Emma pulled away, her lips never straying too far from Vera’s. It took Vera a second to realise Emma was talking, she was so distracted. “Hm?”

“What is that festival you were talking about?” Emma asked, tilting her head and blinking those lovely eyes. Vera murmured a bunch of nothing before finding words, 

“Uuuhh, it’s uh, you mean _halay_? It’s a festival we have twice a year, everyone gets all dressed up and makes woven lanterns. It’s surprisingly fun.” 

“Sounds it.” Emma said in a low voice, leaning back in for a shorter kiss before separating herself from Vera and sitting in her own seat properly. “What else is there?”

Vera lost track of how long she spent telling Emma about all the traditions she could possibly think of, of all the obscure recipes and types of clothing, all the customs and cultures there were. Emma never lost interest, her eyes alight with burning curiosity. 

The rest of the time was spent looking out the window. Emma found it hard to believe just how fast a train could really go, her mouth open at the passing trees that her eyes could barely take in before they were gone from view. Vera, herself, had only taken one or two trains in her life, and certainly not any within recent years, and couldn’t help a feeling of awe settling over her. _Is this how Emma feels all the time? Everything brand new and foreign? It’s exhausting._

At one point Vera looked over at Emma, catching the girl looking at her. Emma smiled. 

“What?” Vera asked. Emma shook her head, letting out a small laugh,

“Oh, nothing.” She murmured, looking at her hands. “I need the loo,” She excused herself, getting up and moving to the next carriage in search of one. Vera watched her leave and then sat back down in her seat, looking out the window, her head resting against the glass. As she watched she noticed a handle on the window and placed her right hand on it, giving it an experimental turn. Sure enough, the window opened and cold air rushed in and around Vera. Brown eyes let out a breath of surprise as the freezing temperature hit her.

She glanced at her backpack. 

Leaning over swiftly she pulled the last syringe from the bag, cradling it in her left hand. She passed it from hand to hand, thinking things over, before lazily resting her right hand out the window, the syringe held loosely within it. Vera let out a breath, feeling the weight of a thousand suns pile atop her shoulders. _I know the price of my freedom._ She thought to herself, her grip loosening further, the syringe tipping over the edge of her palm and towards the rushing ground below, but not quite leaving her possession, balancing just on the precipice of free fall.

In that moment, Vera didn’t know if she would let go or not.

Emma returned a few minutes later and sat down next to Vera, resting her head on the taller girl’s shoulder. 

“How are you?” Vera asked Emma, who gave a sniff and shrugged, wrapping her arms around Vera. 

“I’m okay.” Emma’s voice was unsure and soft. Vera let her head rest on top of Emma’s. “How about you?” Vera took in a long breath, thinking before responding. 

“I don’t know yet.” She replied honestly. Things could certainly have been better. “But, I think,” Vera and Emma’s eyes darted back and forth as they watched the outside pass them by. Trees, fields, cottages. Light flowed over them as they passively observed. Vera held Emma’s hand in her own and gave it a squeeze, feeling that finally she’d found something permanent in her life. Something that, despite what may or may not happen, would remain with her. “I think,” Vera furrowed her brow, “It might not matter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.... somehow we made it to the last chapter! Well done if you've read this way. If you've skipped ahead then, well, I can respect that too. Either way, please feel free to leave a comment/kudos to let me know if you liked it!


	26. Epilogue

** Epilogue **

Weddings are meant to be the first day of your new life, but as Mary looked at Matt Chavez, she knew this wasn’t the case. 

She was going to leave him. 

Mary hadn’t had a chance up until then, Matt never let her out of his sight, never let her have friends for too long, but his work was catching up to him, and after their honey moon he’d have to take longer hours, perhaps even go on day long trips. Mary would patiently wait, leaving no suspicion of her plan, and then she’d take Emma with her and they’d run as fast and as long as they could, away from Matt Chavez, away from the Rebellion, and towards a normal, happy life. A life of freedom.

Mary was swaying slowly with Matt Chavez on the dance floor of their wedding reception. The music washed over her, thousands of feet of liquid melodies weighing above her head, trapping her feeble body at the bottom of a merciless ocean. 

“Focus.” Matt’s voice cut into Mary, and she found herself unwillingly lifting her head, smiling, and meeting Matt’s stare. 

“Of course, dear. Sorry.” She murmured, her face stinging at the falseness of her own grin. Matt gave a satisfied nod, smiling back at her. 

“Things don't have to be difficult, see?” He spoke kindly. Mary inclined her head in agreement. 

The decorations surrounding her, woven lanterns of many colours, bespoke white flower arrangements and men and women dressed in gorgeous combinations of greens, blues reds and golds, didn’t grab her attention again. Mary forced herself to stay present with her husband, to think only on him, to look, smile and talk only with him, just how he liked it. 

For the briefest of moments, though, Mary’s focus was broken. She spied a dancing pair at the edge of the reception. The woman was of no consequence, some girl she’d been to university with. Matt hadn’t wanted any of Mary’s close friends to be there. He didn’t like them, said they were bad for her. Mary didn’t believe him for a second, she missed seeing her friends and had tried her best to sneak them into the wedding. That had been a stupid decisions, Mary had learnt.

The man the woman was dancing with, however. Mary knew him. One of Matt’s work friends. A charming fellow with an air of violence beneath every word. Straining her mind, Mary at last arrived at a name; Antonio. 

“Mary.” Matt’s angry voice sharper than before. Mary blinked in Antonio’s direction, a rock of fear forming in the pit of her stomach, and dragged her eyes off the man and onto her husband.  
“Sorry.” Mary managed to speak, her words pitifully weak. Matt fixed her with a scathing glare,

“We’re married. You need only me from now on, remember?” Mary nodded. “From the way you’ve been acting anyone would think you don’t love me.” Matt’s grip around her waist tightened as they slowly spun, the song dwindling into the background.

“Of course I love you.” Mary tried to convince him, telling herself to hold on a bit longer; escape was within reach. 

“Then your memory is clearly abysmal. Try to retain what I tell you next time and focus on me, hmm?” He pursed his lips in that patronising way he did. Mary gave a nod, looking at the floor. 

“Yes, of course-”

“Eyes. Up.” Mary heaved in a breath and looked up at him.

“Yes. Of course.” 

That evening, as Matt lay snoring in bed, Mary freed herself from his presence. She tiptoed out of their bedroom and down the stairs. She knew to stick to the edges, where the floor boards didn’t creak and betray her movements. Mary didn’t know what had spurned her on that night, but something in her mind had had enough. She couldn’t wait until Matt was at work, she couldn’t bear another second of his oppressive behaviour. Mary had to go, tonight. She knew where Emma was, she could go pick her up and be gone before Matt awoke.

One boiled kettle later and Mary was standing in the kitchen, a steaming mug clasped in her shaking hands as she faced out the window. She could see past their garden, past the neighbours garden, and further still past all other houses, fences, trees and sheds. 

There. The distance, the horizon. It was waiting for her, welcoming her. She’d packed the few things she’d need, she’d filled up on all the food that could be consumed quietly, and now she was mentally preparing herself for the hardest part. Leaving. As much as she wanted it, it was still such a hard thing to do, and a small part of her doubted if she could really commit to it. 

Then a floorboard creaked. 

Mary spun around, her heart near bursting with fear. In the following seconds two things happened. First, Mary didn’t see what she’d been expecting. Matt was no where in sight. Standing in black was Antonio, his hazel eyes looked menacingly down at Mary. The second, and far worse thing, was Mary startling. Her whole body jumped at the shock as her eyes took in the unexpected sight. Her shaking hands retracted instinctually towards herself, palms opening out flat. The mug in her hand dropped, shattering on the tiled floor.  
The silence of the house had been untarnished until then. With no noise but the wind outside, the crash of the mug was an explosion of sound. Mary felt as if her legs were entirely destroyed by the blast, her knees near buckling beneath her. Mary and Antonio stood in silence, frozen in hope Matt hadn’t heard.

“Mary?” It was a question at first, then a roar. “Mary!” Mary’s eyes darted around in panic, before landing on the rock in Antonio’s hand. Antonio was doing much the same, taking Mary in, the clothes she’d put on, the walking boots on her feet and the backpack full to the brim, barely able to stay shut. 

“Go!” Antonio hissed, grabbing Mary’s shoulders and shoving her towards the door. Mary stumbled dumbly, her heart beat thrashing around her skull. Antonio grabbed her backpack, pulling it over his shoulder, and gave her another shove. “Didn’t you hear me?” He growled, forcing her outside. Mary heard the thuds of Matt hurriedly descending into the hallway.

“Mary!” Her husband's voice boomed through the house, a minotaur in a maze that thirsted for her blood, and Mary finally found the courage to move her legs, running out into the garden. 

They reached the back fence which, being only leg height, Antonio cleared with ease. Mary cautiously stepped over it and broke into a run after him, the two heading towards the forest. 

Matt Chavez roared into the darkness for her. He kept calling, over and over, until the distance between them was enough to muffle his cries to extinction, and her running footsteps and laboured breathing was all she could hear

Mary’s mind was racing. She may have just escaped Matt for good, and the mixture of feelings raging inside her were enough to halt any person, but her mind had remember a few crucial facts. Antonio was dressed all in black, and had a large, sharp looking rock in his hand, and had crept into her house at night. 

Mary stopped running.

Antonio noticed and stopped too, turning around to look at her. 

“I want my bag.” Mary said simply, her voice small in the forest, the trees and foliage denying the weak morning light to ease the thick, icky darkness. Antonio’s face turned serious. He didn’t say anything. Mary couldn’t leave until she had that bag, she couldn’t survive without it. Equally, she was starting to suspect she couldn’t survive without running as fast away from Antonio as soon as possible. “I won’t tell anyone.” She began to plead, her heart hadn’t stopped thudding for the past half an hour. “I swear, I’ll disappear, you’ll never see me again. I just want to get away, I won’t cause you any trouble-”

“I need Emma.” Antonio cut across her begging. Mary froze, her eyes widening. 

“What?”

“Can you promise you’ll never go looking for her?” Antonio took a step towards her. She saw his grip tightening on the rock in his hand. Mary swallowed.

“Yes.” Her voice was shaking beyond recognition, her body felt brittle and empty. She knew she was lying, and from the look in Antonio’s eyes she was certain he knew too. Mary closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, ready to die.

Antonio examined her, his eyes looking up and down her person. His lips pursed in thought and then, in what was a miracle to Mary, he unzipped the back pack and tossed it over to her. It landed at Mary’s feet and she flinched away from it, staring dumbfounded down at the thing. Its contents had spilled out onto the floor, but Mary couldn’t care less, and was too relieved to think on why Antonio had opened the bag.

“Thank you!” She gasped, tears swarming her eyes. She knelt down swiftly and hurriedly gathered the items on the floor as Antonio walked over to her, her shivering hands grabbing clothes and food and money and shoving them into the overstuffed bag. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I swear I’ll stay far away.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she heard Antonio’s footsteps circle around behind her. She stilled, a tear dripping off her face and landing with a splash on the leaf covered floor as she thought on why Antonio had opened the bag, and why he had circled around her. Fear gripped her into silence, a tight hand around her throat. Antonio brought the rock down onto her head once, twice, then three times. It was violent, painful, and Mary screamed and screamed and screamed.

Weddings are meant to be the first day of your new life, but for Mary, it was her last. As she lay, her head pounding in pain, her body juddering from agony and her blood spilling out onto the detritus which, she supposed, she’d soon turn into, what really terrified her was the thought of her daughter. What would happen to her? Would she remain trapped with Matt? What did Antonio plan to do with her? The name ‘Emma’ echoed mournfully around Mary’s head. 

Antonio stood over her, looking down, his face grave. Mary was beginning to see past him, into pitch blackness, as if she were being sucked down a pipe that muted all her senses. Her vision fuzzed, the noises around her silenced, the feeling of the leaves slick with blood faded and the taste of iron in her mouth seemed far away. 

Mary found herself praying that God would send an angel to save her daughter. And if not her God, then any God. If not any God, then any person. Anyone, anything, as long as Emma would be spared. Mary couldn’t bear to think Emma would spend the rest of her life trapped in the existence Mary had been in. So she prayed, desperately and whole heartedly.

Perhaps, someone heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. For now. The end of Jam Jars :,) Thank you to anyone who helped me out or supported me through this project, and have a wonderful day, readers! 
> 
> For more info on the book, and on future installments, visit @jamjarsthebook on tumblr


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